There was a woman named Lyn who was a perfectionist in every way. Her house was always spotless. Her white carpet was never stained with a single drop, or sprinkled with a solitary crumb. Every item had its place and was organized into tupperware, folded on shelves, and stacked in order from tallest to shortest, biggest to smallest, or at a 90-degree angle. Should something be out of place, even if it was only a pillow that had gone astray from the neatly made bed, Lyn would become despondent. Even her yard was manicured to perfection. She had the greenest grass, the weedless-iest garden, and the cleanest sidewalks. In fact, her favorite day of the year was the first snow-fall, for this meant she had one or two days when she could take a break from her endless laboring and the yard would still look absolutely flawless when covered with a smooth, pure white blanket of snow. Today was that day. And it couldn’t come at a better moment, for her family would come celebrate the holidays