Clean Ass

Dirt has heard the stories and stays away. This ass alphabetizes things that do not come in an order, color-codes their own sadness, and can detect a single crumb from three rooms over like a bloodhound with a label maker. Their home looks like nobody lives there, because living is messy and they have formally opted out. Guests are offered coasters for their coasters. They have never lost their keys, because their keys have a designated home with firmer boundaries than most relationships. Is it discipline or a diagnosis in a nice cardigan? Either way the baseboards are immaculate, and they would like you to remove your shoes.