I love being organised. Everything in its place, and a place for everything. Being able to go unerringly to a file or drawer or cupboard to find whatever it is I want. Popping things away when I’m done with them, knowing I can retrieve them whenever I like. And being able to put my hands on the perfect bottle of wine without scrabbling around on my knees with a torch.
Being organised to me means feeling that everything is under control. Being organised means peace of mind.
Unfortunately, that happens for me about twice a year. If I'm lucky. Organisation is something I continually aspire to, like climbing a mountain. No sooner do I get to the summit, exhilarated with my success, then I teeter, lose my balance, and hurtle downwards into a more normal state of chaos and endless good intentions.