Sophomore year of college, I moved into a cool old rowhouse in Washington’s Foggy Bottom neighborhood along with four buddies.
At least, we were buddies in September. By May, not so much.
You see, while one of the other guys was fairly messy, like me, the others were fastidious and particular — the kind of fellows who gave you a good idea of what the “A” in “type-A personality” must have stood for.
Here’s what I learned about living with neat freaks: You can come 80 percent up from slovenliness. You can take your shift swabbing down the bathrooms, make …
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