Ask any of my family what word describes me the best, and you will probably get the answer of “Perfectionist.” (Well, unless you ask my sister, but I won’t say what she would call me.)

For me, everything must be PERFECT.

The books on my bookshelf are in chronological order.

My toys are in boxes, labeled (a system I was always fighting to maintain having 5 siblings who didn’t keep it).

My clothes (when they get put away) are organized by color-set in my closet.

Not to long ago, I even tried to organize the spice-cupboard in the Kitchen with a decimal system. For my mindset, it was perfect: have a “simple” master sheet of numbers on the inside of the cupboard door, which told you every where thing was. (Eg. CUMIN: 5.3.2 = The fifth jar, on the third shelf, of the second cupboard) my family disagreed with my idea, and accused me of being two things:

A) Insane;

B) Complicating things needlessly.

At first the thought I had was: “hmmph, they just don’t appreciate my organization..”. But once I got to thinking about it, I started to wonder—

Maybe they were right.

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