Everything has a place, that’s the way I see it, and have for quite some time. Some places that I put things are normal; soap next to the sink, pillows on the sofa, or batteries in an empty wipes container. And then there are places that I put things because they have been in my hands too long as I circle the house looking for ‘their’ spot. This is how my watch ended up in the garbage. It’s similar to the claw grabber game in arcades – I pick up an object in hopes of placing it where: it will not cause visual clutter, I can find it after twenty-four hours, and it won’t get picked up by the kids, time expires, and it ends up in the trash with the ten pieces of paper that I picked up while looking for, and then forgetting about, it’s place. I had forgotten about my watch, and thankfully, while in a panic twenty minutes later, the thought ran through my mind ‘Would I be crazy enough to have dropped it in the garbage?’ Yes.

I can’t stand clutter, although my places that I put things often turn into cluttered areas – if you don’t know or appreciate the order of my piling.

Some of the places I put things is purely functional.

Yes, that is a hangar I bent up as I carried it around (I didn't want to throw it away) and then it perfectly cradled their toy, I always need screwdrivers for their toys (People gave me a hard time for the tissue box i used to pierce them into) and there you have it - a perfect piece for the corner of our counter.

Some I just like the way the objects look together.

It was a pot for a plant, until the plant died and I needed a place to put it - thankfully the spoons needed a place too. A happy marriage.

,and sometimes it just feels like the right place.

I know we all have one of these.

R. lives with this madness, and actually let’s me be, except on the occasion that she is looking for something, it’s not where she thinks it should be, I stumble through my mind while walking doe eyed around the house wondering where the cookie cutters are, and then after finding them (twenty minutes later), I am left wondering why I put them above the oven squished between the oven mitts and olive oil – she gets a little perturbed.

This is similar to the way our mind’s thoughts work. We can’t physically reach out, touch, move, or discard the things that go through our mind, but we need to do a lot of mental rearranging in our lifetime to stay sane. A place for emotions, random thoughts, insecurities, dreams, etc, we all organize our minds differently, and I know I don’t use the garbage shoot out my ear often enough.

But with kids it’s important to stick your hand in your brain, tickle the parts that remind you of being young, massage the emotions that you may have about a situation, but shouldn’t apply to them, and slap the insecurities to the side – whack a mole style. They’ll be there, but hopefully not passed on. People will be insecure about something in their life, for some reason, perhaps a nonchalant comment a third cousin made at a family reunion about your wrinkled eye lids, but hopefully, as parents, although we will, we can arrange ourselves, our minds, well enough to create security rather than force our kids to have an ADT sign hanging out their nose when they’re 15. *Garage door open*

My Papa Sense tells me:

I touch and arrange the physical world as I march through my mind putting “things” together; this is in hopes of becoming more ‘present’ for myself and those around me. Teaching children to have a clean and orderly home is reflective of teaching them to clean out and organize their minds for optimal use. Our house’s order and cleanliness perhaps will not resemble yours, and it shouldn’t, neither should the order of your mind, but both should be inviting and comfortable to foster a space for inspiring happenings, and create an atmosphere where growth is promoted, lost items essential, and peace preferred.

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