Today my husband looked on bemused as, pegs in hand, I ordered wet washing on the line. There is logic in my method, but a logic he does not quite understand.... the order of garments by item, size, weight and in pairs, means that when the wind and sun have done their work (or in the case of sudden showers) I can quickly unpeg and fold into the awaiting bag; heaviest to the bottom, lightest on top, socks together. It is a habit borne of a violent dislike of ironing, and the efficiency of returning clean clothing to their rightful places.
I need order amidst the clutter of family life; regimented laundry being just a small taste of my mild obsession.
Last evening we wound our way through the giant labyrinth of functional Swedish household goods to find that elusive of all grails; the perfect CD storage. I watched, with hands firmly in lap, and mouth silent, as CDs were transferred in haphazard manner to gloss red drawers. In my mind I catalogue how it should be; Eddie Vedder next to Pearl Jam,This Mortal Coil and Cocteau Twins sharing space, whilst Goreki and Arvo Part join the classics in their own bespoke compartment. My hands itch to rifle through and re arrange, but I stifle that thought for a time when the house is still and there is no one to judge this particular foible; the bookshelves a testament to longstanding differences in our methodology. How can I logically explain why Aiping Mu and Hong Ying can share shelf space; but must be followed by Achee Min , before Amy Tan and Bi Feiyu are placed? My husband categorises by size, and weight; I categorise by timeline, author, genre and thoughts contained within. It leads to a higgledy piggledy interweaving, yet I can stretch out a hand and immediately grasp what I am seeking.....until it is moved, that is! I wince when I find Dante next to George Orwell, and Primo Levi looking out forlornly from a shelf bursting with Zola and Sartre ....
Loathe as I am to publicly admit it, yes, I am that person who surreptitiously rearranges books; re folds clothes in Zara, and who repositions those CDs and DVDs in HMV who have drifted far from home. I dread to think what a therapist would think of it all !!