The haphazard way she put the fan back on the box of kindling caused it to crash to the floor and bend. The haphazard way she threw the pieces of kindling together and lit it guaranteed it wouldn’t continue to burn. The haphazard way she stacked the wood in the pile caused it to tumble down, where one piece grazed her shin as it fell. Her thoughts, careless and disjointed, had also led to a haphazard way of interacting with others. Most did not care to notice this about her, and if they did they were accepting of it. There were a few, however, who wondered how she could exist in that shambled world of hers.
The fan still worked after its fall. Three or four tries and the fire stayed lit. Restacking the falling pieces was aggravating but it got done. The abrasion healed. Her thoughts still traveled where they would, and in most cases, led to things that were interesting, which sometimes led on to even more interesting things.
Would she prefer to do all things with great care, with no mishaps along the way? Her thoughts, organized and streamlined without exception? She didn’t know, she’d never experienced it before. It would likely be glorious, efficient, safe, and flawlessly effective. On the other hand, it might be robotic and sterile.
Maybe she’ll tweak it a bit but not too much. She’ll be more careful with the fan. She will research optimum wood stacking configurations. If she does that, maybe her shins will be more at ease. Her thoughts, however, will never be shackled by orderliness. They will remain a beautiful shambles.