"mad props"

My mother's bookshelves are truly a work of art--museum worthy--so much so that I often feel bad amending them. Every time I get a new book, I kind of dread finding it a place on the shelf because it would be changing a Perri Original. Subsequently, books end up collecting on my bedside table along with a growing fear of what to do once the stack gets too high (three ends up being the limit at which my mother asks me to clean my room).

Currently, I am struggling to order my bookshelves at college. This year, I have copious shelving space which is unusual for a lowly sophomore. My bookshelves are vibrant and colorful, maybe a little too visually stimulating, but in my defense I have more to deal with than books. Some items include a stereo, oddly sized dishes, Oreos, an egg timer, three Frisbees, a stapler, and other various school supplies. This is a functional bookshelf, with granola bars in an arm's reach while the dictionary hangs out quietly on the top shelf.

I love it when my mother organizes my bookshelves, or anything really. I do admit sometimes we clash over functionality vs. aesthetic value. After a few days or so my tidiness tends to wane; hence, practicality is a priority when it comes to long term organization. As silly as it sounds, as I get older, I am awed by my growing appreciation for lack of clutter which once was a comfort (I kept EVERYTHING). Because of this character trait, I give my mom "Mad Props," as my generation would say, in that she always makes sense out of the messes I make.