hen I was a teen, my bedroom was constantly a mess. Everything was everywhere, save for a tidy little path carved out so I could get to my closet, my desk and my bed. Of course, like most teenagers who don’t want to clean their rooms, I told my parents it was “organized chaos”: “Yes, I know where my math book is — it’s right there under that leaning tower of socks, papers and magazines!” But let’s be real — I didn’t really know where anything was. It took me at least 10 minutes to find any item in the turmoil of my bedroom. Also, I was hesitant to have friends over, lest they
