I've come to believe that disorder in my life is a signal to me that things are in a disarray inside. I know, this isn't a new concept for the rest of the world, but like a gold fish, everything is new to me ever few minutes or so. I like having my things around me, I like having tableau's of things put together to look cute or as if there is a story why those items are combined in such a way. Sesame Street had that song about same things but one not like the other, I like doing that too. I'll have a grouping of classical books and then throw a rubber dragon among them. That kind of thing. My mom has determined my need to have my stuff around me means I'm a hoarder. Let me make one thing clear I AM NOT A HOARDER. I do not had an unnatural attachment to crap, I do like my stuff, but I own it, it doesn't own me. I'm sloppy, I don't have a problem with my clothes on the floor, or not making my bed and I don't have issues leaving projects out while I'm working on them...and sometime cleaning up after myself when I've finished a project. That isn't hoarding...that's sloppy boarding on slovenly. So, the goal now is to start working towards having my room, my office and the kitchen reflect my mind more than my poor habits. I have people that will be happy to hear this, so I'm not telling them. Luckily they both don't deal with social media so I don't have to talk to them about it. You'd think this concept would have penetrated my thick skull a long time ago, but with new growth comes new realizations. I'm hoping if I work harder to keep my outside tidy and feng shui'd in a sense the process will replicate itself in my bedraggled brain.
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