Neatniks might not realize this, but just because you're messy doesn't mean you're unorganized. I can find most things I look for in my house because I'm organized. Scissors? About 3 inches down in the third pile of papers to the right of the bedroom door. Hand lotion? Two on the desk, three on the coffee table and one beside the bed.

Those of us who are born messy understand the complications that trait brings to one's life. Yes, trait. I believe it's an inherited tendency. Can it be overcome? Scientists are still trying to determine that.

I don't feel I can help it because I try to be neat, as well as organized, and it seems as though I'm working against myself.

My latest example: the accidental "shooting."

As I've said before, we are a spoiled nation. Nothing demonstrates that more than being in a pandemic.

We don't do what we're supposed to do -- at least, not all of us. We want our own way, even when it's not the safest or healthiest way.

I, however, follow the rules and stay home. But (here's where spoiled comes in) I get bored with the refreshments.

I realize there are people in the world who would love to have a bowl of plain rice and some clean water. That makes me feel a bit ashamed, even as I crave an orange soda or a piece of candy (dark chocolate sea salt caramel, even).

To break my monotony, I purchased some cherry flavoring to put into soda. It was meant to flavor water, but I thought, why not try it in cola?

The flavoring was in a little squeeze bottle. I poured myself a drink and squirted the vibrant, red fluid into the glass. But wait! I didn't squirt it into the glass — I squirted it onto the countertop. I wiped it up immediately. After all, red coloring is the worst.

Then, I got some in the actual glass and enjoyed a cherry cola as I worked.

The next time I entered the kitchen, it looked like a murder scene. The dishwasher dripped with cherry "blood" and there was some on the floor. There was even a "bloody" handprint on the refrigerator door. I don't have a clue how I managed that.

But it gets worse.

When I went to put on my pajamas at the end of the day, I discovered who had been "shot." Me!

Cherry flavoring was all over the front of my pants. Startling at first, but not really surprising to me. I know how I am: If I eat pancakes, I can smell the syrup all day because I've spilled some somewhere on myself.

It's fine, though. Only my sweatpants are in need of some healing.


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