Chaos Theory

Looking around my apartment, I am always amazed. If anyone who didn't know me came in here, they would think I was insane. You see, I'm not an organized person. I'm the antithesis of organized. I need to be on that "Clean Sweep" show, or have that chick on Oprah come to my house.

For example, my bookshelves. (First in my line of sight at the moment, you see.) They contain: books. Magazines. A McDonald's McHappy Bucket with decorative marbles that don't go in anything since the cat broke the vase. A box of envelopes. Some perfume. Some nose spray and cough drops. The light fixture that won't go back up. The iron. Some candles. A box for the cordless phone I gave away. A bag with miscellaneous mail and receipts. A cup of pens. CD's containing various computer software. A space heater (not running, of course). A hair clip. A jar of vicks. An empty plastic cup.

You get the idea. I am just a random collection of crap. The rest of my house is very similar. I usually know where stuff is, though. It's a coping mechanism. I think that, since I've been like this my whole life, I've learned to consciously remember where I leave things. It's usually totally logical to me. That's why I've found my electric bill in the bathroom and the book I'm reading on top of the refrigerator.

I have tried to get organized and keep things in places which make sense to someone besides me. But it never seems to stick. When I moved into this place, I put things away. I sorted into little containers and drawers. There was nothing under the bed, the bookshelves just contained books, and my nail clippers were not in the kitchen drawer. As time has gone on, though, my apartment once again reflects the inner chaos that is me.

Compounding my organizational problems is the fact that I don't like to run out of things. You would think that this means I always have a replacement on hand (of stuff like toilet paper, toothpaste, dish soap, etc.). But that's not really it. I tend to save the last little bit of stuff for "emergencies." I have a collection of bath and body products in my bathroom, most of which have but one or two uses left. I don't even like most of the scents anymore. But I won't throw them away, either, because they've been discontinued and I can't replace them. I'm that way with other stuff too...I have a freezer full of food that doesn't sound good, but that I won't throw away in case I'm ever on the verge of starvation. Not that this has EVER been in danger of happening.

To most of the world, I seem to have my shit together. My friends just think I'm a little scattered. If any of them had to go through my stuff (if I were in a serious accident or dead or something, what a cheerful thought), they would think I was straight up nuts. Maybe I am. Maybe I should get my shit together. Yeah. I'll get right on that.