Anyone who has ever lived with me — family, friends or otherwise — would tell you that I am far from the neatest person. Under my direction, physical spaces often devolve into chaos. My desk at work is currently the best example of that; on Friday, I couldn’t find my copy of the AP Stylebook amid the piles of lawsuits and bills and other documents I’ve gathered. It’s that bad.
Still, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again — it’s an organized chaos.
Maybe it’s the Virgo in me, but I actually do like order (insert parents’ disbelieving “HA” here). My devotion to my planner is the best example of that. And my movies and books are in alphabetical order (by title and author respectively). Further, the non-fiction books have all been organized by subject, ranging from the state of Nevada to presidential biographies.
Yesterday, I spent a few hours going through the piles that had grown on my desk. Earlier, I rearranged my closet so the clothes would hang in a color gradient. And just now, I just put all of my jewelry in the box I bought for it a couple months ago (because, logical) and rearranged the space so I could fit in that photo of me and Becky and the Grand Ole Opry.
However, if you were to actually look at my room, you’d think I hadn’t gotten anything done at all, that the entire weekend was wasted on watching My Boys and Harry Potter. My point is, it wasn’t the *entire* weekend.
There’s a method to the madness, I swear.