When Corey and I first got married, we were both aware of the others quirks, or so we thought. But I was not prepared for the messy shelf. He would walk in, and empty his pockets on the shelf of the bookcase in our living room: wallet, coins, pens, whatever. It was plopped onto that shelf to remain until he needed it the next day, the next week, or never in some cases. There was also the area behind the TV in our bedroom. It was the depository for anything that didn't make it on the shelf downstairs.
It drove me nutso. I used to like to think that I was a very free-spirited person-do what you want-let's all get along. But no. I hate mess. I hate disorder. I hate clutter. I can't even decorate because it feels like clutter. So the messy shelf drove me insane. I tried to find a place for it. A drawer. A key-ring holder. A basket. But the mess always ended up on that shelf.
What is the point of this story? I have never given myself a messy shelf. I have never allowed a place of disorganization and chaos. Instead my very Type-A personality has always tried to make everything have place and purpose. I want things to fit into nice and neat little boxes. I keep my desk clean. I keep my side table clean. I keep my kitchen clean (unless I am cooking and then it is a mess).
Except here. And it has driven me crazy. I think about closing down shop-letting the "real" bloggers do this thing. Or revamping it to be a cooking blog? A Jesus blog? A blog of goals to meet? But it always ends up a mess of kids and food and adventures and church and friends. A mess of life. And today I finally realized this little blog of thoughts and introspections and celebrations is my messy shelf. And I create it just like Corey created his--I lay down all the weights of the day-the passages, the funny quips, the recipes, and just leave them until the next day, or week, or never in some cases. And it is okay if it doesn't make sense.
currios. While I still like my house clean, a little mess is sometimes necessary.