Protest of the Peripherals


Extending further from my writing yesterday on the inability to get things perfectly clean, I get a bit more specific to me as a person: I let things get mixed and tangled.

My hair does that on its own. I have no say in that no matter how much I try. But it’s strange to many people that I don’t even bother to keep my shoes in the designated place next to my door, let alone that where they are sprawled out they’re not in their pairs.

And I have a pile of sunglasses on top of stacked filing boxes next to my desk. They’re intertwined in a way that needs undoing to get a specific pair out. I don’t have an obsessive number of pairs of sunglasses; I have six that I’ve acquired over the past several years that I prefer in phases or with different outfits. I’ve used my desktop computer monitor to hang them all on, which is about as organized as I can get. When I use that computer, though, I need to take them off and put them on that filing box, in a giant pile.

Unlike the deepest crevices and corners where dirt takes the safest refuge, it’s incredibly easy to detangle and lay out sunglasses on a surface. I could easily pair the shoes up and put them by the door. I’m looking at these things as I’m typing right now and I feel…at peace with the disorder. I suffer anxiety over lacking spotlessness behind my toilet where no one ever sees, but I feel comfort with something so easy as removing tripping hazards and saving myself a few seconds in the morning by putting matching shoes within grabbing distance of each other.

I’m not even a shoe collector, so it’s startling enough there are so many pairs to disorganize. There’s the pair I had to get as part of a wedding party. There is the pair I run in, for exercise. There’s the pair I walk in to work and everywhere else I choose to get to by foot. There’s a pair of boots I sometimes like to wear on less walk-intensive occasions. There are slightly oversized rubbery slip-ons (technically Crocs by brand but not that hideous style). Those are all sprawled out between my entrance and living room, except one of the slip-ons is near the entrance to my bathroom. Five pairs, all different perfectly reasonable purposes, and I can’t even keep them together.

My life isn’t chaos. I’m not a hoarder, or lost on where to start in re-establishing order in my life. I just wear different sunglasses sometimes, and have different shoes for different reasons…and, to add a bit of personal style, don’t particularly care if they’re not lined up in a clean order. I like living in a clean home, but I have to rebel somewhere.


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