How to kill the thrill of discovery in six easy steps

When I moved into my first apartment after two long years of campus dorm life, what I looked forward to, in addition to the obvious thrill of independent living, was starting and feeding my very own junk drawer in the kitchen. The kitchen junk drawer was standard in each house we lived in when I was a child. Everything I needed and couldn't find elsewhere could magically be found in the junk drawer, and I have fond memories of my mother saying, Did you look in the junk drawer? when I was whining over being unable to find a single battery, thumbtack, stamp, tape, rollerskate key, a rubberband, the Playbill from a musical my parents attended two years prior.

I think junk drawers are perfect in their messiness, that's the whole idea behind them. But not everyone agrees with me. Both Martha Stewart and Real Simple provide guidelines on organizing your junk drawers with separators or small plastic containers perhaps color-coded for, say, batteries, rubberbands or paperclips. Basically, their advice can be boiled down to this:

1. Dump out the junk
2. Throw away what is trash
3. Sort out the rest
4. Buy drawer dividers
5. Sort the items in the dividers
6. Enjoy your new drawer

Well, hats off to you for your organizational genius - and thank you for scaring me with the realization that some people might not be able to figure it out for themselves and will actually benefit from those instructions - but I think we should be allowed at least one place in our homes that is a total disaster. I think we need a break from this ever expanding kudzu vine of organization. The truth is, I don't want to open the drawer and see what I'm looking for right there in its own color coordinated slot, I want to dig a bit so that I can feel excited and successful when I find it. Rewards, even cheap, are nice to have on occasion.

I opened my junk drawer the other morning looking for Cheyenne's heartworm pills, which I didn't find because I'd forgotten that they were in her junk drawer which is right beside mine and for her things only. Staring at all the crap in my junk drawer, I couldn't help but smile at the goods I've amassed since moving in here five years ago:

Sample of Penhaligans perfume, scissors, six Ace Bandage fasteners, two yellow highlighters, four decks of cards (two opened), shoe polishing sponge, Labello lip protection, red ball that lights up (to attach to Cheyenne's collar at night, and since moved to her drawer), small umbrella, Star Pizza menu, two binder clips, several notecards, pocket knife, photo loop, clothespin, three lighters, Cheyenne's first Rabies tag (since moved to her junk drawer), sunglass lanyard, manual to my cell phone, manual to my old cell phone, bag of Halls cough drops, Ipod headphones, Ipod manual, guidance document for my new Nikon, manual for my first digital camera, as well as the digital camera, clear plastic refrigerator frame, two glue sticks, polarized sunglasses, lined notepad, cell phone cover, tape dispenser, a pack of matches from a hotel in London and a pack of matches from a restaurant down the street, two sleeves of negatives, cables for image transfer from camera to computer (old and new cameras), tape measurer, seven Sharpies - three black, two red, one green, one silver, and one red pencil from the W Hotel.

That's a well-stocked junk drawer, if you ask me. And I am blissfully content with the mess I find there.