On the surface, I am a neat freak. The living room is immaculate, everything in its exact, proper place, spotlessly clean (or as clean as it can be with three cats). The dining room and kitchen are pretty neat, as is the bedroom. However, my closet has clothes crammed in -- hanging, stuffed onto shelves in piles so high they nearly all fall to the ground when I try to grab something. Plus, there's this extra bedroom, which is where old crap goes to die and the dust bunnies frolic in the sun. When I don't know where to put something, it gets stacked in here -- clothes that don't quite fit, pillows, furniture, papers from who knows when, outdated law books, mail, a computer and a makeshift recording studio and instruments, tools, you name it. This is where most of my CDs vanish, but occasionally I will find one I haven't seen for months. The CDs I really like at the moment are clunking around in the bottom of my gym bag. Egads, it's terrible. But guests never see the messy stuff.
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