One of the things that surprises me most about happiness is the degree to which, for most people, outer order contributes to inner calm. More, really, than it should.
In the context of life of a happy life, something like a crowded coat closet or an overflowing in-box seems trivial — and it is trivial — and yet I find that I get a disproportionate charge of energy and good cheer from clearing clutter. An orderly environment makes me feel more in control of my life, and if this is an illusion, it’s a helpful illusion.
Even people who thrive on a little chaos tend to have a limit, and enjoy orderliness to some degree.
However, there’s a group of people who seem oblivious to clutter. They don’t appear to see it at all.
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