Welcome to Einsteinia

"If a cluttered desk is a sign of a cluttered mind, of what then, is an empty desk?" -Albert Einstein.

One of my favorite books from the past year is A Perfect Mess: The Hidden Benefits of Disorder by Eric Abrahamson and David R. Freeman. Freeman and Abrahamson's thesis is that we lift in an order-obsessed culture that overlooks some of the positive side effects of certain kinds of mess. We tend to ignore the fact, for example, that organization takes time, is often expensive, and may frequently create more problems than it solves. Messes can lead to creativity, greater flexibility, and in many cases, just make us happier because we're not spending emotional energy and time fixing, tidying, cleaning, and classifying when we could be napping, singing, and playing with dogs/kids/toys.

My entire life, or at least enormous portions of it, has been for the last 10.5 months, a perfect mess. Well, maybe "perfect" is a bit exaggetory. Exhibit A: I am now living in my 9th "home" (quotation marks entirely justified) since selling the condo in July, and that counts 5 days I spent sleeping in my van.

Exhibit B: Saturday, I tossed clothers from my dryer onto the floor. Sunday, I sorted them into piles (towels, running gear, unmentionables). Monday, I stepped over them. Tuesday, I chastised Andale for shedding on my favorite cords. Wednesday, I put them "away" (i.e. stashed them in the overstuffed Rubbermaid bins in my closet.

Exhibit C: In the past three weeks, I have adopted a 38-pound puppy (Frida, pictured), begun marathon training, applied for summer jobs, spent several nights babysitting my three-year-old friend Henry, attended Cinco de Mayo and Chinese-themed birthday parties, resumed writing group, organized a Ski to Sea team, and volunteered to portray FBI agent Monica Venus for my friend Jen's book reading in Seattle. Oh, yeah. And I'm building a house.

Or rather, James is, and he's doing a mighty fine job fine-tuning the ever-decreasing mess at 1510 17th. Among the accomplishments in recent days, the house now features a front porch complete with decking, a hand-crafted railing, and steps. In addition, there is a working doorbell, functioning lights in most rooms, switches and outlets, a garage door, completed wood floor and nearly-almost-entirely finished slate flooring (thanks Art and John O!) and the beginnings of travertine walls in my shower and tub.

In even more gigantic news, Elements Design delivered and installed my kitchen and bath cabinets (!!!), including my desk center and bookcase. I now have a home for my Rachael Ray Library and all those Weight Watchers cookbooks that don't seem to be doing any good. Viva la construccion!

The interior painting is complete, and I don't hate any of it. The front bedroom (henceforth known as The Sunshine Room) glows with a soft yellow, the back bedroom is the exact shade of Zen-green that I imagined, the halls and living room are a soft, beige neutral called Sand Pebble, and the kitchen is exactly the red-purple-cranberry that I planned. Only my bedroom, which turned out to be Advanced Uber Periwinkle instead of Soft Lilac Dream has given me any pause. But I'm getting used to it.

There is a lot of action at the house and in my life, action that is really accomplishment disguised as messiness. As Abrahamson and Freeman point out in their book, systems are often messy simply because "they lack one specific type of order, even though other forms are present in abundance." Certainly that is the truth with my life right now--the "one specific type of order" is certainly lacking, but there are plenty of little tiny systems being squared away at 1510 Donovan. Despite the messiness around me and inside my head, there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And if you drive by, you can see it shining.