"I Might Be a Fool, You Might Be One Too"

I came back to the apartment at 5:30 yesterday because I hadn't made my bed and it was unsettling me. I couldn't study anymore on campus knowing that I had left my bedroom so disorderly. Obsessing over stuff like that just isn't conducive to a good frame of mind to absorb Descartes or interpret Genesis non-theologically or help a study group come up with questions for their project on Beowulf.

Then I got back, and I didn't make my bed. And I'm obsessing about it. Still.

I crave order and neatness. I like to have my space, and no one intrudes on that space. My possessions are my friends, and they all have their own personalities. I know I'm personifying hugely, but it's what I do. Trillian is and always will be a wayward, spoiled child to me, and I love it for that. Robots are cold and mechanical and predictable and worthless. Which is probably why I don't like math. You set up a formula, put the numbers in, and get an answer. The answer is, I don't care.

So now you get to tell me about your quirks and oddities and obsessions. It'll only make me love you more.