Messy Me

My Computer room is a mess. I have spent great part of today trying, unsuccessfully, to clean it. I have managed to throw some stuff away and managed to gather like parts of other things into respective parts. Bills and letter into boxes I plan to sort and file when I can get to my file cabinets, CDs and DVDs and computer software disks in another container to sort and file or throw away on yet another day all of which gives the room cleaner look. It’s a lost cause though I just know it’s a lost cause. I have never been able to keep anything clean and tidy. I envy people who can keep their environments neat My rooms have always been this way, as have been my school desks and refridgerator. I think I have a brain injury which does not allow me to see how to clean or arrange things neatly. This was so long before my accident so I cannot use the wreck as an excuse. Maybe I am just too lazy to put things away when I am finished using them.

I can recognize “clean” when I see clean and I appreciate it. I work better when I have a clean desk or counter top. I get dressed faster and I feel more creative so why cannot I keep things clean? I wish I new. Like in the third grade, in Mrs Peterson’s class. My desk was on the last row of desks right to the left of Pam Turner’s. My desk was a mess as usual. I secretely loved it when the teacher made the whole class clean their desks like on ‘parent’s night’ Since everyone else was cleaning their desks no one noticed how bad my was. My desk was crammed full of stuff, papers, glue and books. If I remember third grade was the first grade we could keep things in our desks. I do know it was the first year I was able to keep Elmer’s glue in my desk: white Elmer’s Glue. I was fascinated with Elmer’s the way it came out all gooey and then dried to a smooth hard surface. I had found this out once or twice when drops had fallen on my hands and dried but had never intentionally. I don’t why I did what I did that day maybe I thought I was safe behind the chaos of my desk, I don’t know. But I managed to squirt a thick covering of glue over all my fingers. I was so enthralled in my project I completely lost track of Mrs Peterson. I usually had a pretty good early warning system that let me know when Mrs Peterson was near but not this time. The glue was hardening to a fine glaze when suddenly I felt my flannel shirt being yanked hard from behind. It was Mrs P- and she was in a rage. I had never seen her in a rage and never at me. I donot think my feet even touched the floor as I sailed over to the sink. Hot water splashed my hands and I still remember Mrs Peterson roughly scourging fingertips with that brown course paper grade schools used.

I don’t remember much after that or the consequences of my actions—I just some how tied the event to my chaotic desk. It’s late now and this weekend is nearly over. But, next weekend is a holiday weekend giving me an extra day. Maybe I’ll do better then.