I am not into the scientific understanding of entropy, really. It is just that I hate when my surrounding is all messed up. Be it in my wardrobe, or in the way the utensils get arranged when I wash them up, everything has to be in its respective place.
I must have inherited my dislike to entropy from my mother. She always aligns everything in the rooms and in the kitchen in their own places. Maybe it is the reason why I am so fond of cleaning everything that comes in my way. I hate seeing my bed left astray. Not a moment when I can enjoy my peers leaving their dirty socks in the dormitory. Not a moment when can I appreciate the randomness of handwriting that my teachers present whilst they write the problems in the blackboard. Not a day goes by when I feel that something ought to be done about the foul odor entering as a draught into my room from the other room.
|Entropy maintained in my Worshiping room|
It is just not about the cleanliness that glues to my consciousness. The presentations also play a role in determining whether some products will have a lasting impression in my senses. If, for example, I go into a shop and find that the materials are all out of their place, then I turn myself aloof into buying one of the products. As easy as that!
Back in my school days, I had such affinity to maintaining my dormitory that I naturally lured my dorm mates to clean up the mess they had created. Some felt relieved by my influence while some complained that I had gone too far to make it mandatory to affect their personal life. I loved to give my version of lectures on the direct relation between cleanliness and studies. They did little to change their conscience. I knew later that my peers went so easy on my advice due to my stubborn nature. Well, whatever the reason it was, I felt happy to not have confronted entropy.
Maybe I am so addicted to cleaning my rooms that I have forgotten to notice any of its flaws. Maybe I am so obsessed to reaching for my stuffs hastily that my hands have turned dirty and felt itchy when I make my bed. Maybe I am so irritated by randomness that the thought of hearing lectures on entropy will get me scabies for a long time. However I try to dwell on dull reasons, I love being who I am: a maniac who sees everything in order and who is desperate to keep it that way in whatever way possible.