Jantics

My house is a mess, usually.
It’s ok.
I can admit it with relatively little damage to my psyche.
I’m not nearly as organized as I would like to be.
It’s sort of been a lifelong thing. My mom can tell you that my room was usually a mess, and my college friends can tell you that my dorm room was usually a mess too.
I love bumper stickers that say things like “A neat desk is the sign of a cluttered mind.”
And “Never trust a neat freak.”
One thing that has helped me a little bit is to get stackable organizers. They pull out like drawers, and I put all sorts of junk in them. I have them in the computer nook, the living room, the kitchen, and the bedroom.
I’m not much of a shoe-hoarder, but if I was, I would probably need a shoe organizer too.
This way, it’s at least somewhat conceivably possible that I might someday allow other human beings in my house, if it’s neat enough. I hate having visitors when the place is a mess. It would be embarrassing if they all called the board of health as soon as they left, begging the authorities to condemn my home. I hate it when that happens. (Especially when it’s my mom that calls them).
So go ahead.  Share your stories of messiness and dust colonies.  I promise not to tell everyone if you have a shoe organizer in your closet.
We can look forward to the day when bumper stickers everywhere accuse us of having cluttered minds.