It starts with disorderly clutter on your table. You probably have OCD, but you simply cannot for the life of you understand what should be the next makeshift arrangement that would put your mind to rest. After trial, error and failure, you inevitably decide to give up, and the mess travels to the bed. ‘Ah, what a mess!’, you think each time you enter your room. How you wish you could do something about the aesthetics. My analysis has shown me that we could assign people certain categories according to how they deal with a room that by the looks of it would seem just-been-rummaged-in. So let me start with the category of those cool dudes and dudettes out there, who simply could not care less about the chaos. ‘Come on, i know my mess’ they would say. Of course, there are better things to concentrate on. So they cannot afford to waste time cleaning up. When they do it, they could give every cleanliness freak a run for their money! But on one of those days when they just want to listen to ‘You had a bad day’ by Daniel Powter, a transition occurs. They decide to divert themselves by deciding to clean their surroundings. Here comes another category. Reality is harsh, they would say then, and thus choose to beautify it. Wonderful solution, I must say, albeit accompanied by a dreadful risk factor-the stockpile of old memories that was waiting to be unearthed. ‘Aaargh, just what I needed’, they would exclaim ruefully. Last but not the least, those of us who have OCD. Well, we can take the otherwise mundane seriously at times, much to the chagrin of our thin skin. And then when crisis befalls, we just do the opposite. We just won’t care now. Excuse: preoccupation. What once used to be therapeutic now seems like an ordeal. And the irony is that there was no wound to be healed when it seemed ‘therapeutic’. I wonder if it stems from forgivable lethargy or from something else, something that we are  hiding beneath a facade. A question which has no answers, a puzzle which cannot be solved, an impenetrable mystery? ‘Cause now we’ll soon develop another preoccupation with delving deeper into details, and shall again miss the bigger picture, which would probably tell us that all that is required is to remove the unnecessary baggage. Get a move on and give them their things back. See? So simple a solution. Writing about it made me realise two things: one, that I’ve been mulling over the immaterial; and two, I finally gained an insight into how to go about handling chaos. Just face it. No substitute is going to work. No escape would be remedial. Moral of the story: Don’t un-earth yourself, Unearth a clean table instead. Asap. High time that you accepted that the table is not equipped to handle as much as you would like it to.

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