I consider myself a neat and organized person. My note pads are color coordinated. My closet is stacked up and color coordinated as well. My CDs and DVDs are arranged by genre. Even the folders on my desktop are named in such a way that anyone who looks at it will know how my music is segregated from my movies from my anime series. My wife thinks I have OCD. I just want to see symmetry and order. But that’s just me.
My wife and my son on the other hand, are busy bodies. My wife is disorganzed but she doesn’t make too much of a mess. I find her things on her dressing table (which we used to share) and on the computer desk (which used to be mine). She loses her phone from time to time and she needs to call them (both her mobile and our landline) to find them. But she finds them nonetheless. Yes, she occupies half of everything and I keep on moving out of my space every now and then. My boxes of toys don’t know where to stay put anymore.
My son on the other hand, is a walking mess. He leaves his books everywhere. I find his books in the toilet, on the dining table, on the floor (anywhere in the whole house), on his bed, on my bed, and everywhere else that he walks into. I find his toys in the same places but includes even in the shower and in the refrigerator and sometimes in my underwear drawer. He leaves all the doors that he opens, open and all the drawers that he pulled, pulled. Anything that he drops stays there and he will never pick them up on his own. When you ask him to pick it up, he will only pick up that one thing even though there are others just beside it. I once asked him to pick up his toy cars and put them back in his toy box. He did. But the toy cars were beside a toy plane which should have gone in the box as well. So I had to ask him to pick up the toy plane too. It’s the same for his books and his underwear and his shirt and his phone and the coins that he scatters around the house.
Some people just don’t know what it’s like to constantly be on the edge of wanting to clean every scrap of mess around the house. But I can’t. I can’t because as organized as I want myself to believe, I’m just as forgetful as a goldfish. So if I clean up someone else’s mess apart from my own, I would never remember where I had put them away. And this becomes a problem when that somebody starts looking for something. Technically, it already is a problem in the first place because it was piled up in a mess. But because that person knew where that mess was, they at least had an idea where to look.
Of course, this could just be a mild case of over thinking. Then again, what isn’t a case of over thinking nowadays?