Me = Still not the owner of House M. D. *Sighs dramatically*
Wilson had OCD. He could try and hide it as 'just taking pride in his appearance' or 'giving a damn about the environment', but every morning he woke up to write another to-do list.
He liked things organised. He liked to know where they were and when they were.
He liked to know in advance.
He liked things alphabetised, by year. Just in case. He kept a list of every card and present he had ever given or received. He placed his coasters at a right angle to the edge of the table.
He liked his hair to sit just right. He liked a symmetrical suit and a tie which complimented it. His shirts were hung in his wardrobe like a colour spectrum, ranging from black to white.
You get the point.
His best friend, on the other hand, was not organised.
His best friend had no systems.
His best friend would go out of his way to make Wilson's life difficult.
Yet the oncologist couldn't help grinning when he added, to the bottom of his to-do list, the simple word:
'House'