Dear Passionate Organizer of Stuff,
I am glad you enjoy your clutter-free desk, alphabetized books, and color-coordinated to-do-lists. I am glad the teachings of Marie Kondo elucidate a path toward joy for you.
What I ask is that you leave me the fuck alone; that you do not passive-aggressively or — let’s face it — plain aggressively suggest that I clear out my desk; that you do not offer to organize my bookshelves.
The clutter on my desk and the seemingly random ordering of the books do not bother me in the least. I know this is probably hard to understand for you; sorry about that. Now leave me the fuck alone.
Why am I being so rude? Can’t I see you’re just trying to be helpful? No, because I don’t go to your office and offer to clutter your desk or disorganize your books. I leave you the fuck alone.
You imply concern about my productivity. How could I possibly even begin to work until every last bit of office stationery rests in its rightful place?
It’s easy. My mind is perfectly organized, thankyouverymuch, even if you find that unfathomable.
We all know what this is really about: You think you are superior to me and want to make sure I know that.
But I am not your inferior, so you can fuck the fuck off. Go tidy up in hell.
The One Whose Cluttered Desk Gives You Palpitations