Delight in Disorder?*

 My older daughter, well, to put it bluntly, is a slob. The other day when we drove her back to her apartment in the city, we witnessed a macaroni and cheese pot in the kitchen sink, along with other grimy plates and silverware. Macaroni and cheese was still in the pot, and not a whole lot of water was in the pot. This is not that unusual or surprising for her. Another time her then-boyfriend found a pretty ceramic serving bowl thrown in the garbage, with days-old guacamole caked on it. Grains of cat litter can be found on the floor should you find yourself barefoot in her apartment. She's a fancy, busy lawyer and no intervention seems to help.

I am not a slob. However, I have lots of messy areas in my house. The desk in my bedroom is littered with old receipts, old frameless photographs, articles I should read, mail I should save somewhere. I have visible travel ziplock bags around containing toothbrushes and shower caps, and I'm not traveling right now. My nightstand has medicines once prescribed but no longer used, a book I gave up on, hand creams and face creams I don't really use, and discarded reading glasses I don't throw out. Why do I keep these things around?

I teach a 3-hour remote class every Monday. All week long I have all kinds of books out, piles and piles of file folders, articles, post-its, and they're strewn across my dining room table. I can't seem to consolidate it all, and since we rarely have a visitor in the house due to the pandemic, I allow the disorder, perhaps even enjoy it. Does it make me feel more accomplished, more of a creative artist?

Let me just say for the record that many areas in my house are well kept, like my living room and the kitchen, but I am writing this today in plain print in the hopes of conquering those gnawing messy areas. I am committing myself today to rid those areas of this insidious messiness. Wish me well.

*Title comes from Robert Herrick's poem "Delight in Disorder"