There is something incredibly gratifying about achieving order out of chaos. Cleanness from dirtiness. Neatness from disorder. Beauty from ugliness. This is satisfaction. I revel in emerging from the muck of chaos into the clean open spaces of order. This can, however, become an obsession. When the maintenance of order overtakes ones life. I wrestle with this problem, daily. I strive to maintain order in a universe where all tends to disorder. Madness? Maybe.
But, if we are not continually striving against the ever-encroaching chaos, we will be overcome. It does seem like madness, but life is madness. Nothing truly makes sense in the universe, or at least very little. Take love for example. It makes utterly no sense at all. Why would one individual completely surrender themselves body and soul to another, leaving oneself open and vulnerable to all possibilities, both good and bad? Foolery. It's all foolery.