Organize This!

My system of organizing should probably be filed under "C." Not "C" as in "Curiosa," but under "C" as in "Chaos." (Not that I really ever file anything ever, but we all have to start somewhere, don't we?) It was not an overstatement when my college roommate aptly gave me the nickname "Hurricane Curiosa" during the year we shared a flat in Seattle.

I've always been a big fan of the statement, "My mess is just an extension of my creativity." Another favorite is the adage, "Love me, love my mess."

My system of organizing goes something like this:

1) Drop things roughly in the same spot on the floor every time so you know where to find it when you are in a mad dash out the door
2) Pile everything onto the couch when you vacuum the floor, moving it gradually back to the floor as you need a place to sit
3) Never cook at home so you never have dirty dishes
4) Put the CDs back in any empty case you find so next time you are hunting for a particular album everything's all set up for a rousing game of "Hide and Seek" (otherwise known as yelling at the cat, "Where the hell did you hide my Norah Jones CD?" only to find it in the Casablanca DVD case. Where Casablanca is currently residing is another problem all together.)
5) Under the cat, next to the other book, upside down, third in the pile of papers is actually a viable storage alternative

Am I the only one who ponders the question, "Why bother vacuuming today when we are just going to have to do it again next monthweek?"

The need to do it often and over and over again is one of my biggest pet peeves with cleaning. It's a vicious cycle. You clean, and it just goes ahead and gets dirty again. That seriously irks me.

I'm also the kind of person who has to make to serious mental effort to squelch to the impulse to move something out of place if things are extremely orderly. If things are too neat, I can’t think straight. I can’t find anything either, but that’s not really the point, is it?

I keep saying that “it could be worse,” referring of course to my own spectacular cleaning ability (or in other words, my ability to make a mess appear out of thin air). I could be thoroughly baffled by the concept of a “vacuum cleaner” and be utterly confused when presented with a toilet brush, but at least I understand theoretically what I am supposed to do with them. As it stands now, I maintain a distinct distinction between “dirty” and “messy,” shying away from the former by doing the bare minimum to keep the health and safety inspectors away but proudly embracing the latter as, once again, “an extension of my creativity.”

So what happens when Chaos Curiosa Style meets the Guy who Likes Things Far Neater than I do?

Now, don't get me wrong. Having a place for everything and liking to have things in their places is not a bad quality. It's just a slightly different approach to organization of one's things than I tend to take.

So what if he organizes his socks according to thickness as well as arranges his CDs in alphabetical order? There is probably more logic to that then my classification of socks according to "clean," "may or may not be clean, you might want to see if it passes the smell test," "dirty," and “very dirty…I wouldn’t sniff that if I were you.” [Luckily, due to my fantastic “long-term, sustainable, economically viable strategic planning” where shopping is routinely chosen as an alternative to doing laundry, I have plenty of socks so the likelihood of sniffing out a clean pair is at least 50/50.]**

My CDs, on the other hand, never have and likely never will be alphabetized, because alphabetizing them would require making sure that the name of the album actually matches the name on the CD cover, and that would take more time and patience than writing a PhD dissertation on the thermo-nuclear dynamic properties of flying pigs.

Thankfully, he has been infinitely patient, and has hardly said a word about the warzone that is my apartment. I'm gradually trying to make it more hospitable/habitable, not because he's asked me to, but because I want him to feel comfortable there. The net result is that I’m trying, and he’s doing a fantastic job of putting up with me and my mess. (I do understand that not everyone shares my "hang it on the floor" philosophy when it comes to care of one's items of clothing.)

My apartment has gradually become neater over the last few weeks, as he spends more and more time here, and his room is starting to look like someone lives there as I spend more and more time at his place. (Sorry about that). My attempts at “trying to be neat” may still look like the aftermath of a tropical storm, but it’s spic and span by the standards of three weeks ago.

I keep letting him know that I am holding him responsible for the transition towards…ewww….ohmigod…turnmyworldupsidedown...something even close to the definition of NEATNESS. I think he'll happily take the blame for that.

Instead of "love me, love my mess," maybe the adage should be, "love me, despite my mess."

**See Curiosa’s Guide to Financial Management.

Please is not the word I'm looking for

"Take your pants off."

"Say the magic word."

"NOW!"

Oh where oh where...

Well, I've been getting a few comments wondering what the Kommissarie has been doing with herself. (I'm sorry; I know I just referred to myself in the third person). Let's just say I've been otherwise occupied, and once again, I have this blog to thank. I've been slow on reporting the play-by-play, and for once, prefer to keep the details to myself, at least for the time being. The Exibitionist in me, who likes to broadcast the intimate details of my love life to the Internet, is currently on holiday. The Exibitionist may be taking a break, but in the meantime, except Kommissarie Curiosa to return to it's regularily scheduled broadcasts.

You know you've been at the university too long...

...when you start to say things like "during my freshman year of grad school..."

It's ONLY Monday

OB = Oh Boy!

I understand that quite a bit of thought goes into advertising campaigns for feminine hygiene products, as Mr. Silver Fish has pondered over in his blog. It seems a bit silly to me that the same Stockholm Local Traffic that would choose to take down the slogan "We Love Boobs!" from the subway and bus stops would turn right around and choose to allow an advert with a cartoon mouse reclining against an OB tampon with the phrase, "Make it comfortable for your mouse." As I understand it, "Mus" or "mouse" in Swedish is the equivalent of "pussy" in English. Both words refer both to a kind of furry animal as well as...something distinctly female. Not that this advertising slogan is offensive in any way. It's actually kind of funny. I cracked up when I finally figured out what the "mus" was leaning against. But somehow I doubt that the equivalent, a small kitten curled up on a couch-like tampon, would go over so well in the United States.

Quote of the day

"I'm sorry for being so apologetic."

Shameless Self-Promotion Part II (OR false modesty part I)

As we've already established, I would never, ever use this blog for selfish purposes, such as to get votes for blogging awards, and certainly would NEVER EVER EVER use it to meet men, such the one who tried to score a date by referring to this a bimbo blog. (For those of you who missed the episode, I believe the exact description of my "bimbo blog" was: a trite, incredibly mundane though seemingly clever sex-in-the-city-wanna-be series of posts.)

So of course I wouldn't even consider using Kommissarie Curiosa as an outlet for financial gain. But I might, on the other hand, use it to help promote a starving unknown struggling young jewelry designer make her break into the Swedish handicrafts market. You might check out this link if you want to see some of the other things she does besides blogging.