is not my strong suit
My desk at work is organized because I would simply fold in upon myself otherwise. I find it difficult to focus enough to know where I am and what I am doing there, so being disorganized is not an option.
Not if I want to keep getting a steady paycheck (which is imperative to fund my real ambitions of photography, writing and travel).
My photographs are organized.
With tens of thousands of photographs, literally, there must be organization or I would never be able to lay my hands on a particular photograph when I needed to.
As crazy as it may sound, when I look at an image, I remember the moment it was taken. It is like a bionic power of some sort that allows me to pull from the brain pan recesses in perfect clarity something that happened on some obscure day in the past though I often have difficulty remembering what I ate for breakfast.
When I remember to eat breakfast, that is.
My house is not organized.
It is jumbled and chaotic, but I know where everything is.
I’m not big into “stuff”. I have one photograph on my wall and the calendar is still on may of 2011. To those that know me personally, this will not come as a surprise. To the rest of you … close your mouths. It’s not that big of a deal.
I have clothes on the floor, shoes on the floor and junk on the couch. But my kitchen and bathroom are clean.
I rarely cook anymore, which is a shame because not only do I love to cook, I am very good at it. That isn’t bragging, just stating the facts. I am an excellent cook. I just don’t do it.
But if one day the mood strikes, my kitchen is clean and my butcher knife sharp.
I think I started this whole post with organization. I’m not sure why that was even on my mind since there are only the three areas, work, photographs and kitchen that are organized.
My house, at any given time, looks as though a band of rogue monkeys swept through and had a free-for-all.
I don’t care. If I’m ok with it, anybody who finds fault is simply a fault-finder.
If you are coming to see me, come ahead, if you are coming to see my house, make an appointment … about one year in advance.
I never understood and still don’t understand people who pretend to be what they aren’t simply to impress someone who likely wouldn’t be impressed even if you levitated while juggling flaming torches.
If being impressed by me is what someone is looking for, they will be sorely disappointed. I live in my house and clean it when I feel like it, I wear clothes so I don’t get cold or arrested and I work so I can afford to do the things I really want to do.
Organization? Not if I can possibly avoid it.
I’m much too busy living to worry about the small stuff.