When my dear friend Billy told me he had described himself to a date as “kinda messy,” I told him he needed to offer full disclosure immediately. This woman was orderly to an extreme, and after they broke up (because she wouldn’t let him drink a glass of water in her living room, among other reasons) I suggested he look for someone who is organized but not so uptight. I added, “But you can never, ever marry anyone who is unorganized. If you ignore me, I swear I’ll stand up at the wedding and protest — for the sake of the children.” This may sound heavy-handed — if you don’t know that Billy is one of my oldest friends and haven’t read about his exploits here, here or here. And then there’s the fact that I am the product of the marriage of two Not Naturally Organized people and know firsthand the stress a child experiences growing up in a chaotic household. When I married, I chose a man who was raised by a mother who is Far Naturally Organized. He learned to pick up after himself and keep things tidy. This was my salvation. He was the undergirding of our household while I found my way and, by example, taught me the natural rhythms of keeping one going. Fortunately, I desperately wanted to have a smoothly running home, and today our home functions and runs smoothly enough.

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