Everything of mine has to have its own rightful place.
You can contribute this to my neat personality or obsessive rationality, or to the fact that I tend to forget trivial things and my sanity depends on the sense of security of knowing that I can always find my keys in the second pocket or the flashlight in the fourth right drawer under the table.
So when I get home, I will arrange my shoes neatly either on the floor by the shoe rack or on the shelf if there is space. At home we don't stack shoes up on top one another, but at Umair's we do.
Afterwards I will walk to my room, putting the keys back in my bag pocket and proceed to deposit my bag on the floor by my bed.
And then I will do about my business. Change my clothes and snuggle Kevin or whatever.
But everything changes in the winter.
Upon unlocking the door, the door will be kicked close and shoes will be haphazardly strewn across the foyer. Keys will be thrown on the carpet and the bag will be dropped unmercifully where it landed.
There will then be a race against voluntary control of bladder to the washroom.
