I think that I was once organized. I have files, and books on shelves, and toys in bins. 

But now I also have school pictures from the last three years interleaved with various other keepsakes in a shelf on my desk, and most of my papers are in a stack that will eventually find its way into my neat files. 

The books I actually read are scattered around my desk and bed.  I think that I have room on my shelves for nearly all of them, especially if I use that extra space between the top of the books and the next shelf up. 

And I don’t want to talk about the toys. They are not my toys after all.



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