I’ve always been an orderly person. I kept my books alphabetically organized by author on my bookshelf. I’d arrange my closet by business or church attire > color > fabric, paying particular attention to keep my silk and cashmere in garment bags, my ungodly priced jeans hung by designer, my favorite outfits within easy reach, proudly displayed at the front of the rack in case one of my stylish girlfriends happened to stop by with a curiosity for my closet. I would switch on a vacuum almost excitedly, feeling an odd elation with the loud hum of the dirt-sucking apparatus like music to my ears.
I remember watching Beauty and the Beast when I was younger, and aside from the magicality of the obvious storyline, I was so in love with the idea of an enchanted castle that housed humans transformed into household appliances! I imagined myself as the maid turned feather duster…my wispy dress cleaning as I glided along the glossy marbled floor. Strangely enough, I had no affinity for Belle. I associated with a walking, talking, bewitched cleaning tool instead.
I found joy in waking up bright and early on Sunday mornings, sitting at my meticulously tidy desk, switching on my brightly faced Mac and compiling lists of tasks to accomplish during the upcoming week. After every swipe of my credit card, I would enter the transaction into my checkbook immediately, taking careful note of the date/time/type of transaction, with a silly fantasy that I’d be audited one day and I’d have accurate record of every penny spent. When I was in school, my organizer was detailed down to the hour. I would immediately email classmates my outlines and notes after lectures. My life was so perfectly compartmentalized that I could describe what I was doing 2 years ago at 2:00pm on a Thursday.
Everyone has their obsessions and pet peeves. Mine was [is] a fetish for order, so much so that most of my childhood recollections involve some form of tidying up or another.
Which is why I’m a bit thrown off by my general attitude for order at the moment. I moved into my current apartment 6 months ago and I still haven’t thoroughly unpacked! I’m sleeping on the floor of my shabbily furnished room, in a twin bed taken from my parent’s house because I insufficiently allocate funds for…tabs and transactions that I couldn’t even itemize because of poor documentation! My 4×6 Fisher Price of an Ikea desk is somehow cluttered with useless paraphernalia, jewelry, empty water bottles, restaurant receipts, inkless pens and dusty containers. My laundry basket is full of liquor stained clothes from Las Vegas and various local dives. A tornado somehow…quietly…disheveled my closet and is mischievously making its way to the kitchen. Those damned tornadoes!
I’m ashamed to admit, I’m not even putting up a fight!!! I’ve lost my grip on constancy. I know…I know…I know change is eminent. It is a bit refreshing to leave a sink full of tea-stained glasses overnight. I suppose I’m embracing this carefree air. I need to gain footing again. Get my kick back so I can keep…moving.
But what can I do to get focused again and put my priorities back on track?
Gods of orderliness, please bless me again. Give me an honorable mission. I long for combat. I long for direction.