I love the feeling of being organized. Towels neatly folded in a linen closet, appointments beautifully scribed in a leather bound day planner, and old photographs filed in chronological order.
I love that feeling, but I am not that person. My laundry basket overflows, my cash is tossed into my purse but not in my wallet, and my camera and its case have never been introduced.
But the strange phenomenon about this is that even though I would LOVE to be more organized - and I strive to be - I am not envious of organized people. In fact, I don't like them much. Girls with spotless white pants in a rainstorm, guys who have no single socks - only pairs, people who own label makers. I really can't stand those high maintenance, holier-than-though types.
So, go fuck yourselves, Mr. and Mrs. Organized. I'll be in the kitchen.....eating spaghetti out of a saucepan.