Since I've moved to my new apartment, I have yet to finish unpacking. I have been so lazy it's ridiculous. I find myself questioning how on earth I became so lazy and when did it start getting so bad.
Sometimes I wonder if my independence led me to become such a lazy ass.
It truly felt amazing to have my own place, live at my own expense; at my own will. Will to do as I pleased. I loved coming home to my place, MY place. A place I called my own in which I did as I pleased. The space in which nobody could mess with. Yea, well my space is all gone now!
As much as I love living with "the lady" (my mother), it's a constant reminder and challenge to keep things organized.
That lady is so organized she drives me crazy. Why didn't I pick up on that trait hers? I find myself questioning it all the time. Growing up she's always been very stern. I find myself mocking her because she's so organized and I'm the complete opposite which drives her crazy! She knows I try, she shakes her head in amusement each time she comes to my room and finds me "organizing". She always teases me and says that it always takes me longer to organize than what it lasts before it's all unorganized again. She's alway right, and we laugh together everytime.
I can never lie to her. Lie to her yes, get away with it never. She knows me to damn well. When we'd talk over the phone, she'd tell me she can guarantee a car that my house was a disaster. I always told her it wasn't, that it was very organized. Truth was, the place was organized--for me. I knew where everything was, I laid it out as I pleased; laid out to work for me. I didn't have kids, a husband, or anyone to be so concerned about and have it so damn tidy. I've never been a neat freak or extremely tidy. I've always been a disaster. A beautiful disaster.
The disaster is getting out of control and it needed a little tame and so I decided I needed to buy a few things in order to get my disaster under control.