I’ve talked more than a few times on this blog about how I am a stickler for things being tidy, neat, organized, all of it. My clothes in my closet are hung up according to style, and then organized by color within that style, the clothes in my dresser are similarly arranged, the books on my bookshelf are organized by category, then by author, all the songs on my computer are organized by genre, then by artist, then by album chronologically…I don’t like wasting time looking for something when I want it. If I want to listen to Pure Desmond by Paul Desmond, I don’t want to go hunting around for it. If I want to read A Thousand Days by Arthur M. Schlesinger, I want to be able to immediately spot it and grab it. I’ve always been like that for as long as I can remember; it wasn’t some quirk of adulthood. Even my notes in school, both high school and college, were very organized. It helped because if someone needed to look at them because they missed a day or something, they could easily understood what was covered in class. My sister, which I’ve also talked about, is the exact opposite. There’s a method to her madness though, which I’ll be damned if I understand myself, but she knows where everything is and how to get to it. Amazing how we can be related, yet be so fundamentally different at the same time.