And this is why I'm single

The other night I was watching an old episode of Friends in which Monica is describing her quirks to her boyfriend Richard. This led me to thinking about my own little quirks. I'm not a terribly organized person; I always have piles of old mail I need to go through scattered about my room, I don't keep a planner, so my I wind up jotting notes down on whatever piece of paper I can find, etc. But there are things that I am extremely particular about.

When I first get home (my actual house, not the dorm room I'm currently in), I automatically go to my room and take off my shoes and jewelry and put up my purse. So whenever I need those things again, I know exactly where they are. Contrast this to my sister, who kicks off her shoes wherever she feels like it (leaving me to trip over her sandals in the hallway) and always takes her jewelry off in the kitchen, so that when I open a cabinet I find a watch and a diamond ring. She also has the habit of simply dumping her purse and car keys when she comes in the door, and then can never remember where she left them. This always drives me crazy. For as long as I can remember, she's lost things (most often her keys) and will then freak out, causing me to calmly intervene and find what she's looking for. She likes to brag about her good memory, but apparently it doesn't extend to remembering where she puts her keys.

Some other things I'm particular about: the bed must be made in the morning. I never used to be like this in high school, when I would simply roll out of bed and not look back. But since I started college, I've wanted the bed made up every morning. Not super neatly or anything, but I want it to look nice. The dishwasher is another thing--it must be loaded in a certain way; plates go on the bottom left side, and forks, knives and spoons should be in separate compartments. On my bookshelves, books are arranged by type. I always visit websites in the same order every day--gmail, yahoo, the local newspaper, etc. Clearly, I enjoy structure.

So my question is, why am I so particular about so many things in my life, yet I can't seem to tackle that stack of unopened mail?