The constant struggle against entropy

     Several weeks ago, I quit my day job (despite the saying 'Don't quit your day job.') so that I could put more of my focus on my writing.  And sure, I've written some, but more of my time has been spent in constant battle with messiness.

     I hadn't realized just how much junk I had piled in corners throughout the house. I'm no hoarder by any means, (I had to stop watching episodes of hoarders because they made me too nauseous) but Marie Kondo would have an aneurysm if she came by.

Let's just say my closet doesn't look like this.

    It took two weeks and a ton of help from my wife, Princess Consuela Bananahammock, but I have finally caught up with the laundry. For months we have survived by scraping the top layer of dirty clothes into the washer and getting a load done here and there. Dresser drawers that used to be constantly bare are now overflowing to the point that our local thrift store will be getting a sizeable donation soon.

    I spent several hours everyday sorting, folding, pre-soaking, and softening. And of course, as fast as I could finish a load, the kids would create a load. That small feeling of accomplishment you get when you finish a basket of clothes gets shattered entirely when you turn around and see dozens of shirts strewn throughout the house. (I swear my kids change clothes 20 times a day)

    Laundry as an adult is like the punishment of Sisyphus. (Sisyphus cheated death twice and as a punishment, Zeus cursed him to push a boulder uphill for all eternity) No matter how much you do, there will always be more. Always.

So sad. So true.

    The sisyphean task(something that is both exhausting and futile is sisyphean. Made you learn something.) of laundry made me think long and hard about entropy. Entropy is a physics idea that says (very basically, don't lambast me physicists) nature always wants to keep things at their most disorganized state. This requires less energy, so it is most efficient on a system to just let things devolve into disorder.

    So every day I trudge about my house, combating the ever present creep of entropy into my home. It irks me no small amount that I spend so much time rallying against a basic physical property, but it has to be done. We can't all live like hoarders, and Mrs. Bananahammock would kill me.

    But in the interest of full disclosure, there is something I do hoard. In 1993, I started playing a little game that had been recently invented by one Richard Garfield. The game was called Magic: the Gathering, and I have been collecting ever since. (that's the last 30 years for those of you keeping track)

    I call it a hobby, but lately it has been more of a habit. I took a few moments to perform a quick guesstimate count of my collection, and it is fair to guess that I own at least 40,000 cards. That might sound big, but I don't suspect I'm even in the top ten among just the people I know. Thing is, my Magic collection falls prey to more entropy than the dirty laundry from all four of the people living in this house. It is no exaggeration to say that cards can be found in every room of my house, and probably every vehicle. 

    There is an entire industry built around trying to contain your card collection, and it helps, but it's also another drain on resources. Once Magic graduates from a hobby to a habit, it gets expensive fast. Doing another quick guesstimation, I think I spent well over $3000 on MtG last year (Don't tell Consuela). In addition to the money spent buying little pieces of cardboard, I've spent hundreds on big pieces of cardboard, to put the little pieces of cardboard into. When I step back and look at it, it's almost shameful. But of course, I don't sit back and examine it often, it upsets my worldview. Ignoring facts that are unpleasant to me is my right as an American.

    There is a very apt moment from the big bang theory, in which Leonard hates himself for buying yet another card pack expansion complete with collectors tin and sheriff's badge that doubles as a wand.  (s5e10 if you were wondering) He gives in and buys the collector's edition even though he knows they are just toying with his emotions and exploiting his addiction. That is me to a T.

Add 100 pounds to each of them and this actually looks a lot like my Sunday nights

    For now, I am content to just sit and wait until my wife reads this post, then I'm certain we will have a nice long talk about certain numbers listed here she wasn't fully aware of. But I think I'll be okay, I've seen her Amazon receipts.