There is comfort in chaos.
Who’d have ever thought that I, of all people, Ms Organized, would commit those words to paper?
There is comfort in chaos. Well, let’s not exaggerate: Maybe not so much in ‘chaos’ but certainly in disorder. I look around me and ten years ago I would have blitzed the place to within an inch of its comfort zone in ten minutes flat and filed everyone and everything in alphabetical order whether they liked it or not.
Now, this minute, I look at my desk, the window sill the desk runs along and whilst it’s a shambles there is comfort in it and reluctance to do anything about it. And no, I am not depressed. I am undecided. Who is the real me? The old one or the even older one?
Don’t worry: The rest of what can only loosely be described as a ‘study’ is a disgrace – and I am so glad that people who knew me earlier in my life can’t see what my back is facing when I sit at my desk. That’s one of the reasons I am so happy that I don’t have eyes at the back of my head.
The secret to life is storage. Which is why I always wanted a plan chest, preferably an old and weathered one. Plan chests will be familiar to architects to hold their, well, plans. I need a plan chest to hold all my paper. And photographs. And everything.
Just shows you: You can take an orderly person out of order. But you can’t take the urge to order out of me.
Wish me luck. I am not sure where this is leading. But I do fear for myself. This might sound oddball but I think I can pinpoint the moment paralysis set in. On 12 January 2009 the police knocked at my door and asked me whether I was the owner of vehicle ………. Indeed. I was. I had taken it to the garage for its annual check up and various repairs. For a handsome fee. Only the garage parked the car – ready for collection the next day – on the road. Yes, Sweethearts, someone shortened what was quite a vehicle – in the middle of the night. Identity unknown. It was a write off. Not that the car and I were joined at the hip but I loved the freedom, the spur of the moment, following your impulse, it gave me. Since then I walk which, yes, keeps me fit and trim – nothing new there then – but I think I’ve lost a gear or two.
Anyway, I can feel a tidal wave of determination coming on. So should I be a little quiet (unlikely) it’s because I am on a mission. Please do let me know what you’d like to be filed under. I’ll even coloUr code you if you wish. Make an inventory of you. And a duplicate. Should you prefer being dumped I will make sure you’ll go into the right recycling container.
Hugs, kisses and clinging to the wreckage of my life,