If furniture, appliances and inanimate objects could have hurt feelings, I should most probably owe quite a most humble and abject apology to all the dressers and other tables I’ve used throughout my lifetime. I’ve been known to stuff clothes quiet recklessly into drawers and to leave all sorts of things, ranging from toothpaste stains to discarded receipts, upon them. Never having been a perfectionist about my organizational skills I tend to be quite sloppy and leave things in places where they should never be allowed to stay. It’s a good thing furniture can’t react to anything that’s done to it because I can imagine all the whining mine would do. The dressers and tables, among other things, would feel so cramped and restricted, always covered with pile of things and having all sorts of paraphernalia lying around upon them. They would be afflicted with a major attack of claustrophobia. Ever the master of messiness, I always seem to have five feet of things crammed into only enough space for three feet of things. My drawers are forever stuffed with things that simply don’t fit the least bit well into them. Lately I’ve been using white plastic bags in an attempt to ease the clutter with regard to laundry. I make sure I put recently washed and dried clothes into them. My book shelves have quite an infinite number of books and periodicals upon them, significantly more than they can reasonably be expected to handle. Messiness is a problem that goes back to my very earliest days.