Posted by: Chronicles | March 18, 2011

The Spectre of OCD

There were ghosts, yes. But no cobwebs. The spiders were all sent packing. Skeletons lurking in cupboards were disinfected to death (although admittedly they had been dead already). The polished chandeliers gleamed; the doors were far too clean to creak.
Ghosts Mrs. Trevelyan didn’t mind, but dirt she couldn’t stand.

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