As a child, I was always messy. My mom would tell me, “You’re just a pack rat, like your dad.” I never wanted to throw anything away, or put it where it “belonged”. In fact, none of my possessions had a place where they belonged—at least, not in an organizational sense. No, actually I used my mess as a means of navigating my room. Instead of the book I loved belonging in a certain place on the shelf, it belonged on the floor over to that side.
Continue reading “Can a Slob Change? Pt. 1: Slob at Heart”
