When I was a small toddler (instead of a small non-toddler), I had a bit of a love for organisation. This continued as I grew up and one of my favourite “games” was to sit and sort hair bobbles into piles based on colour, size, stretchiness or any other distinguishing feature (what can I say, I was a bit odd).
Now for most parents, a tidy toddler is a dream come true, but for my Mum – a woman who was then very partial to the odd bit of child psychology – it was more of a paranoid nightmare. Another one of my pass times was organizing all of my animal models (Puppy in my Pocket) into families, then counting them, counting the families and rearranging them. This usually took so long that I would have to pack up at once they were sorted.
This love for organizing is still rather strong many years later. Today I have been having my weekly treat of giving my desk a quick spring clean. My shelves are now nice and categorized. I have my candle corner, “beauty corner” (consisting of plain hand cream for cold winter days, a cardboard box of novelty cork board pins, a 4 year old bath bomb and a bobble that my hair is too short for), my themed corner (still in it’s winter phases thanks to the cold weather, so I have two penguins and some cotton-wool like material), my gardening corner (a strawberry kit, some compost and a very slow growing bonsai seed – turns out it takes 5 years not months to reach adult size) and finally a rock corner – pretty self explanatory.
Of course, next I have to decide on how to order my books. I have chosen a mix of height, sticky-out-edness and genre as no one method was sufficient on it’s own. I also have a different area for read and unread, good and awful. I must confess, the odd good book strays into the bad section when I run out of space. (What a terrible injustice).
Another example of this can be found on my ridiculously organised computer desktop. My “unsorted” folder is sorted by year, month and category. Yes, I am aware that is an oxymoron.
In my most recent saturday treat, I went through my notelet box and reorganised it. Previously, I had sticky notes on the top then sharpeners and rubbers underneath. Now, my rubbers have moved into the drawer below my colour sorted paperclips and I use the spare drawer for putting my weeks to-do lists.
I also have a list with all of my plants names on it. I know, I am a terrible mother for forgetting but, in all fairness, my mother never remembers my name either. Another excuse is that they do all have rather long names as each plant is named after a member of parliament. Collectively, they are known as my Botanical Government.
My room also has a little… ok, large… tribute to the kitties. Large photos count as two points while small count as one. This was to ensure that both cats received an equal amount of representation on my wall – and wouldn’t get the ridiculous idea that I loved one more than the other. This is an issue, as I have very different relationships with them both. Jim is my grandad; he looks after me and spends most of his time napping.
Rosie, however, is – and forever will be – my baby. I will never stop looking after that little furry child, and she will never stop getting annoyed about it.
Oh… and I will also apologise for the completely unrelated image at the top but, let’s be honest. It’s an assassin sloth. That is relevant to everything in some deep, psychological way.