Today, via email, a friend asked if I was an organized person. Not long ago I would have said yes. I have an 8 foot bulletin board I use for story plotting or notes to self. I keep a notepad by my computer and make daily to-do lists. I have notebooks and folders, and even the books on my shelves are in alphabetical order.
But since the friend asked today, I had to say “no.”
I have a book due date of January 1. That’s not enough to throw me into chaos. I have a daughter arriving today. Not enough to disorganize me. I have four more adults and one dog arriving Christmas day or the day after, don’t know which. I have another sister who keeps saying she plans to come over and spend all day every day here while Sister One is here. She keeps calling me daily from Costco wailing that she doesn’t know what to buy in case Sister One should decide to come to her house to eat. Not enough. The house needed a thorough cleaning, Christmas to be put up, presents to be bought and wrapped. Getting close, but not there. I have to move out of my office. Take my laptop and anything I’ll need for the next two weeks, including book in progress, upstairs to a card table. I think we’ve arrived at disorganization.
And the family wonders why I’m not playing Christmas music. Why I wander through the house mumbling, “Bah humbug.” Why, last night, I dreamed I drove into a strange, hilly, forest-y, neighborhood, then my car broke down, and a nice lady picked me up, but when I whispered, “damn,” under my breath, she made me get out and I wandered through hills and forests for days and days, then as I stood on the edge of a precipice looking down into the rocky abyss…I woke up. And now I’m packing up my computer and moving upstairs to the corner of the bedroom.
1 month ago