People keep telling me how “organized” I am. I hear it a lot, and it always makes me laugh. In fact, I can pretty much guarantee that if Neil is reading this right now, he’s laughing his head off at the idea.
Kind of like this:
It’s true that I am surrounded by microcosms of organization:
- My fabric stash is organized by designer and collection.
- My box of inventory is organized by color.
- My store book shelves are organized by media, publisher, and alphabet (or chronology, depending).
- My meal plan is currently organized, although this changes with the wind…
- My flickr photos are organized into collections, and then into sets.
Basically most of the things that I blog about are organized. But organized on a grand scale? Oh, I wish! My home is the antitheses of organization. I would guess that it has something to do with trying to store too many things in too small a space, but it also has much to do with lack of serious effort. A truly organized person would sort through the mail the moment it came into the house. She would immediately throw away the junk, file the important papers, and put the bills in their designated spot, to be dealt with at a predetermined time. I dump the mail on the kitchen table. Or sometimes the back of the couch. I rifle through it quickly to see if there’s anything fun for me, and then I just leave the rest of the pile laying there. And the other people who live in this house are not a whole lot better.
So, in the interest of full disclosure, allow me to present a view of my home as it exists this very morning. I am not showing you the bedrooms or the bathrooms, but let me assure you they are no better than anything else you are about to see.
And there you have it. Several years’ worth of complements undone in one 42 second clip . Now, why did I just do that? I have no idea. What I do know is that I have a couple of rooms to clean and I’d best get started now before the urge passes.
Oops. There it goes…