Messy Ass

This ass lives in a state of creative chaos the rest of us would need a permit for. There is a system. They swear there is a system. It simply happens to look exactly like a laundry explosion that witnessed a car crash. They know precisely where everything is, which is 'somewhere,' and they will find it, eventually, under the other thing. Surfaces are a suggestion. Floors are additional storage. They have three half-finished projects, six open tabs, and a car you could file a missing-persons report inside. Organized people are baffled. This ass is thriving, spiritually, in the rubble. Chaos is not a problem here. It is the natural habitat.