Way back in eleventh grade when I took physics, my teacher (who was totally awesome) gave us an extra credit project. If we went home and managed to convince our parents of the pointlessness of cleaning our room because of entropy, and they signed a note to that effect, we got five bonus points on our next test. Seeing as how I had no desire to DIE, I uttered no such thing to my mother.
Entropy, also known as a measure of disorder, has it in for me. I shared a room for fourteen years with its vanguard. I escaped only to have it send three minions. I’m not OCD. I don’t mind a bit of clutter. Despite my acceptance that the universe drifts towards disorder, it seems that Gibbs free energy equation (G= H-T*S ) which determines if a reaction is spontaneous declares my house a non-spontaneous reaction. [S is entropy, H enthalpy, and T temperature.] No matter how warm it gets or how much energy I put into maintenance, my house does not stay clean. One might ask why temperature has anything to do with cleaning. Well, once it dips below seventy I get chilled and if it gets colder than that I tend to want to hibernate. I think perhaps nature got confused and turned on some bear genes, but stopped before I sprouted fur and the ability to feed off my fat for three months– if I had that much fat.
Temperature is a measure of heat and heat is energy. I require a great deal of it.
If only I could find a catalyst to lower the energy of activation. Hmm, there was this wizard’s apprentice who used magic brooms, but that didn’t turn out well…