He’s always been a punctilious sort of person: precise. Always on time. A place for everything. In his car, he puts his favorite radio stations in numerical order on his Favorites buttons. And he maks lists. Oh, all the lists. I swear, he makes drifts of them. Forests of trees were cut down to make enough paper for all of his lists.

He’s the kind of person who makes goals. Who keeps New Year’s Resolutions.

Me? I’m hardly ever on time. I have to keep my alarm clock on the floor because I shut it off in my sleep. I only have one system of organizing things: disoragnization . I can’t seem find things when everything’s put away. I never make my bed – why bother? I’m just going to have to un-make it at the end of the day.

I am the kind of person who lives day by day, sifting through piles of debris to find things I need.

He plans vacations.

I don’t even pack the car. I just grab my stuff and go.