I wouldn't necessarily say I'm neurotic about organization - I just prefer it to disorganization, that's all. My house is rarely clean (that is, dusted and vacuumed) but it is almost always organized. Most things in my house have A Place, and the few things have not yet been designated A Place drive me crazy. I'm not a minimalist - there are piles of stuff in my house, most often books - but they are neat, organized piles. And I admit, somewhat ashamedly, that when I dine out in a restaurant the first thing I do when I sit down at the table is arrange the silverware and condiments so they are neatly in place. I know. But I'm not hurting anyone, right?
This is the front room in my house right now:
The other rooms aren't much better. I think H's room and the bathrooms are the only rooms without piles of boxes in them. You can imagine, I'm sure, how far out of my comfort zone this puts me.
I wouldn't say that living with this chaos is the
greatest challenge of the moving process...we've had far too many other obstacles for me to make that claim. But I would say that this room is symbolic of what we are going through right now. Life is uncomfortable these days. Being uncomfortable is necessary for growth. But it isn't fun.
No comments:
Post a Comment