MISHMASHING

     When I grow bored with being organized and efficient, I sometimes settle cheerfully into the coolness and poise of disorganization. Then, I accept my disorders and mishmashes as no worse than the way leaves lie across lawns in graceful confusion these days. I compare myself to clouds in the sky as they scatter and shift and reshuffle themselves in their beautifully messy way. Being neat is a nice way to live, but here’s a cheer, too, for occasional clutter and even some harmless chaos. I see little orderliness on the beaches we walk, with their picturesque swirls of sand and driftwood and stones, and sometimes I let my life be like that, let the waves wash in and shape my minutes every which way.