Being Messy

Sometimes I wonder whether being messy is something that will ever change about me, or whether it is the way I will always be.

I remember my mum used to get so exasperated with my messiness. I was a pretty well behaved kid so most of the time if I was getting told off it was because yet again, you could not see the floor in my bedroom. Tidying it usually just meant clearing a path between the door and the bed.

No matter how many times Mum tried to sort out my room or how much storage space she got me, my room would always deteriorate into a cluttered mess.

It’s weird how some people find it easy to be tidy when some people really cannot grasp it. Even when I resolve to be tidy it does not last long, I just gradually let things slip until I end up in the great mess I am well used to.

I mean, I know a lot of it is laziness. It is not that hard to put clothes away at the end of the day rather than scatter them on the floor. I guess some people have a higher tolerance for mess than other people.  I do have a limit, I may not keep things tidy but I don’t really like things being dirty. I am much more likely to do the washing up than I am to pick up the pile of clothes left on the floor. So at least I would never allow myself to live in total squalor.

I think somewhere down the line I thought that it was somehow cool to be messy and have grown to accept that I will always struggle to keep a room tidy.  Plus, whenever I visit a friend and they have a messy bedroom, I feel like they also understand the struggle it is to be tidy.  I have bonded with people many a time by talking about how easily and quickly we can mess up a room.

It would be a bit intimidating if I went to someone’s house and it looked like some pristine, minimalist nightmare taken straight from Pinterest. I know it looks nice, but how have you done it? Put things away after you finish using them?  Who has time for THAT?!

I say that, but the frustration of trying to find an item of clothing whilst knowing that it could be anywhere in my room: the chest drawers, the wardrobe, buried on the floor, slipped under the bed, that bag from when I took it to that place a few weeks ago, is far too real and frequently occurring.

But I think I have accepted that this is always going to be a part of my personality, I’ll carry on ignoring that pile of books, clothes, magazines and rubbish I’ve left on the floor for no reason.

“If a cluttered desk is the sign of a cluttered mind, what is the significance of a clean desk?”

Laurence J. Peter or Albert Einstein, or both! The internet cannot seem to decide who said it.

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