Everything In Its Place

I have a crazy hatred of clutter. I can't stand it. I really, truly, believe that there is a place for everything, and everything should be in its place. And yet, I am currently looking at six scraps of paper with notes written on them, strewn about the computer desk. Two pieces of paper that look like homework. A note pad, a wallet, a flashlight, a magazine, piano music, and an empty grocery bag.

Three out of five dining room chairs have coats hanging on them.

One chair has a shirt draped over it that doesn't even belong to a member of my family and when I tried to figure out who it did belong to, both my kids said they didn't know. No one noticed a friend taking off his shirt? That makes me worry about what exactly the kids are doing while I'm at work.

Shoes all over the floor, papers that have fallen and not been picked up, and something the dogs dragged in, which looks nest like and solid, and I'm a little afraid to investigate.

This sort of clutter makes me nuts. Made worse by the fact that I have been sick all week, with just enough energy to go to work, to come home and cook dinner, and to put on pajamas and go to bed.

Today I have grand plans. The recycling bin is empty so all those loose papers will now be recycled. The shoes will find their way to the shoe rack, the coats will go back on their hooks, and I guess I'll throw this unknown shirt into the dirty laundry.

It may not belong to us, but it does have a place in the hamper. And today, everything must find its rightful place, or I'll go bonkers. Or back to bed. Yes, bed does sound good. After all I am still sick, and for sick people, the right place to be is bed.