A place for everything, and everything in its place, that's what I always say. Or, it's opposite, "Does this have to be here?" which I really say more often. Like when the laundry basket is strategically placed right in the middle of the path I take to grab my hat in the morning or hang it up at night. Or someone's purse and books and keys and coffee cup and opened mail are strewn over the kitchen table, effectively removing it from use. Or every chair in the living room is occupied by bags of videos, empty yoghurt bowls, sewing projects, home decorating magazines, yoga mats, library books, tee-shirts, shoes. Or half a dozen loose CDs on top of the stereo, cases somewhere else. Aaargh! Randomness drives me crazy.
Call me a neatnik. Make fun of my desk drawer with tidy compartments of carefully sorted paper clips. Hear my confession: I'm not more organized than anyone else (well, maybe some) I just have a harder time finding my way around without the crutch of an orderly, put-together environment. There, I've said it. I have a problem. I'll join a 12-step group. My name is Sven, and I'm a categoriholic.
You know that family of siblings in the movie (and novel) The Accidental Tourist? William Hurt and his brother and sister have this neurological condition that makes them easily lost, disoriented, confused when navigating the realms of airports, foreign cities, their own neighborhood streets, kitchen cupboards. They require that things they encounter be mapped, listed, and labeled so they know what to do with them. A mild form of the Oliver Sacks symptoms where the names and uses of things get crossed in the brain's synaptic wiring, and consequently the man mistook his wife for a hat.
I'm not sure where I'm going with this issue, which is probably one of the symptoms, except that it's aggravating as hell and something I will either have to systematically work out or simply learn to accept, though neither prospect seems likely. Meanwhile, my beloved and fiendishly cruel family members have lots of ways to drive me crazy by putting bowls on the plate shelf (or vice versa), leaving the hammer, pliers, or screwdriver on the floor of the bedroom (which is NOT where it belongs!), or moving my cheese.
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4 comments:
Wait, Jack. Are you saying that neat people can't be from the South? Cause if you are, I beg to differ . . . starting with me.
Sure, you wouldn't know if from my current desk mess at work and you might not know if depending on when you visit my house ($^^*%**** small kids! ONLY KIDDING . . . sort of).
But, I definitely have a mindset that everything has a "place" and I certainly am the only one in the house that is trying to put it there time, after time, after time . . .
Right now I am trying to understand how I missed this post. I usually know fairly quick when a new one comes along.
Clarification re the dating of posts: Usually I let the date stand on which the blog entry was started, and only rarely do I finish what I start on the same day. Therefore, deceptively, the date of the post is not the date it was posted.
Your hypothesis might hold water, Jack. Those people in Iowa are pretty sloppy. But not in Georgia!
Interesting topic! I, too, am a bit of a neatnik but, like JT, am also somewhat lazy.
Since I got The New Job, I have largely handed the housekeeping duties over to Kev, who enjoys the luxury of being able to work part-time (and most of that at home). Sigh. And the house just hasn't been the same. And I found that my irritation level was rising VERY quickly. Worst of all, I simply cannot function when things are out of order. I come home from work, look around at the half-done chores and piles of paperwork, and immediately crash on the couch.
This weekend, we got it together. It feels great!
Eureka! Neat correlates with laziness…because…it’s easier to just reach for the spatula exactly where it belongs, rather than searching through three different drawers, the dish drainer, and the backseat of the car.
And thanks for the affirmation, y'all. I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and gosh darn it, other people are just as F&@#-%P as I am.
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