Organised Chaos

I’ve got some scattered pictures
Lyin’ on my bedroom floor
Greenday- Scattered

A friend of mine pointed out that my room looks different when I’m not well.  When I’m up, my bedroom looks as though someone has torn through it in a fretlooking for a diamond or similar.  Clothes are hanging out of drawers, bits of paper are stuck to available surfaces, things of relative importance are piled on my desk, sometimes not at all as important as I seem to have given them credit for.  It looks as though everything is important but nothing is taken especially good care of.  When I’m low, it looks like no-one has bothered to move anything back to its rightful place.  Clothes are left where taken off, any plates are left on the desk, books are on the floor in desolate, unreadable heaps.  It looks like something not bothered with- as if nothing means anything.  Sad mess.

So… what’s it like when I’m “normal”?  It is and always has been, organised chaos.  The difference is that there is an order to things!  So the books are in a corner beneath a t-shirt but I know that’s where they are.  The drawers are closed- I have bothered to hide havoc behind them.  There is some (semi-successful) attempt being made to hide my scattiness.

* I used to make this amazing thing with my Granny called Comfortable Mess.  I think I started it one day by pulling everything from all her cupboards, spreading  it out in lovely little heaps, a carpet of cardigans, and declaring it The Comfortable Mess.  She bore it with calm and we did it again.

There we go.  Three states of mess.  Turns out that’s just how I am…

 

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