Structure.
Need it. Love it. Hate it.
I puzzle often over the provinance of this part of my character. For many years I travelled in parts of the world where there appeared to be no structure and yet I loved it so much I sowed it down into the root of me (of course there was structure, and of course I knew that as I waded through Phnom Penh, Cairo, Saigon, ‘Amman, Tegucigalpa… but it was their structure).
I watch my 5 year old son lay out lego blocks assorted by colour, by shape, into rows before he assembles a house on wheels and my eyes widen at the thought that I have somehow breathed this into him in so short a span of life. And I do so love him.
I remember as a young person, your room was the tidy one – the girl’s room looked like a tornado had waded through compared to yours. You were quite organized – so mabe it is inherited. Maybe it’s a male thing.