I am not a tidy person. Never have been. My childhood room was always covered with a six inch layer of toys and clothes. I find something incredibly delicious in kicking off a pair of jeans and leaving them heaped on the floor. Calling this an inherited trait would be a total cop out, but also the complete truth. My husband is slowly breaking me of some of these habits--I now make the bed, put said jeans in the hamper, clean the kitchen as I'm cooking--and I love it. But I still have such a long way to go.
I lose a drivers license, debit card, camera cable, etc. once a week, only to discover it 24 hours later lurking in a deep, dark corner of my purse. Every morning I scramble for what to wear. My workspace is stacked tall with unfiled papers. My car has clothes in it that haven't been worn since last fall. I long for a neatly-folded, rainbow-ordered, biggest-to-smallest, organized existance because I realize that I'm losing so much time looking for what's right under my nose.
Time to make some changes.
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