I've mentioned before that I have a strong sense of order. Some, like me, might find that to be a good thing, but others, like Eric, apparently don't. When our company was on another floor, I had a multi-month silent battle with an unknown floormate with a contradictory, but equally strong, sense of coffee counter order. Cups should go in two neat stacks, Sweet 'n Low is not the same thing as Splenda, and there is no need to take things out of their line up longer than when you're using them. My parents tell me that I'm clearly the abnormal one, since no one else they've encountered feels compelled to line up french fries on a McDonald's tray or restaurant plate before eating them (horizontally not vertically, because that would be crazy).
I'd like to say that I've grown to be a more precise person as I've matured, but that's not quite true. In second grade, I had the mega stand-up display of 72 Crayolas that was my pride and joy. It was awesome - it had a portable case, a built-in sharpener, and did I mention SEVENTY-TWO COLORS? For those who are from a different time, that was the Holy Grail of crayon collections. That was the biggest one, and my mom, obviously knowing what's up, got it for me at the beginning of the school year knowing that it would be the envy of Mrs. Wright's class. I loved and cherished these crayons, keeping them sharp, but most of all, keeping them in the "correct" order.
Everyone knows that Burnt Sienna is the ugliest color in the Crayola family. It had its place in the corner, next to the florescents (known as Ultra Pink, Ultra Blue, and so on rather than "florescents" back then). Despite being the second grade queen of the fluorescent short and tee sets, when it came to the fluorescent crayons, as my grandma would say, I just couldn't go it. They were garish, too...well, too, and they just weren't, you know, Carnation Pink. Also in the banished corner were White (useless unless you have black construction paper, and the school only gave us manilla), Maize, and Orange-Red. These undesirables were not to be mingled with the remaining 60 colors, but they couldn't be thrown away because that would have thrown off the balance of the Crayola ecosystem since some colors have to be undesirables. It's a fact of life.
I've never been much of a sharer, especially good stuff like the Crayola 72er. But, if someone asks nicely to use my stuff, that's cool. What was decidedly not cool was when an unnamed classmate used one of my crayons and then peeled down the wrapper without permission, which she never would have gotten anyway. I don't care if that's how some people think you should do shading on a picture. That is not how I do it. It's not so much the non-regulation shading or the act of peeling my crayon wrapper, but more that the crayon now would not match its brothers. I went all kinds of Linda Blair on this kid, going from quiet to head spinning crayon police.
Sensing my need for order and school and office supplies, my dad gave me something even better than the crayons: a Dymo label maker. Now, this wasn't one of those new-fangled ones that is electronic and will smoothly print out a flat label - this one squished each letter into the rubbery tape in a satisfying way. *Shiver* It was the best. I labeled everything in my room. In fact, I wish I had one now so I could label my things that Eric isn't allowed to touch. I should probably do that now while he's away at a conference, right? Off to eBay.