I am a bad person. Not a bad person in a deviant, psychotic kind of way, but a bad person in a disorganized, slovenly kind of way. It's the piles of papers to be filed, runaway shoes to capture, articles to read, drawers to sort out, Apple music to organize and RSVPs to be RSVPed that simply overrun my sanity and desire for a pristine, well-ordered life.

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