I have a bad habit of not putting things back where they belong. At least that's what I've been told.
The funny thing is, I think I inherited it from my dad. From the outside, his shop looked a little disorganized. Tools on one bench, parts on another. Things scattered around that probably looked like clutter to everyone else. But if he needed something, he'd walk straight to it. Didn't matter if it was a screwdriver, a wrench, or some random part he hadn't touched in six months. He always seemed to know exactly where it was. Nobody else could find anything, but he could. Apparently some of that rubbed off on me.
Over the years, I've spent plenty of time looking for tools I was convinced were exactly where I left them. Sometimes they were, sometimes they weren't. Either way, my system always made a lot more sense to me than it did to anyone else.
My father-in-law couldn't have been more different. That man had a place for everything, and everything stayed in its place. If a screwdriver belonged in the third drawer, that's where it lived. If a clamp belonged on the wall, that's where it went when you were done with it. He wasn't shy about reminding me that my approach could use a little improvement either. I lost count of how many times he gave me a hard time about it.
Looking back, I guess they both had a point. Dad could find anything in that shop of his, no matter how it looked. And my father-in-law probably spent a whole lot less time looking for things than I do.
I've gotten a little better over the years. Not perfect, but better. These days I try to put things back when I'm done with them. Not because I've suddenly become organized. I haven't. I've just spent enough afternoons looking for a tool I knew I had.
Funny how your priorities change. When you're younger, spending twenty minutes looking for a tape measure doesn't seem like much. These days I'd rather spend those twenty minutes wondering about something.
Preferably not where I left the tape measure.