My warning is, if you devote yourself so wholly to order, the record of your life will be all metadata and no data. I've been obsessed with this topic, as with dust free window sills, and coffee mugs with perfectly aligned handles in my cupboards; there come a day when the diary says 'read and organized diary', and those days are not days.

So I look at my desktop with 5000 files and 40 types, and with sort by date, I can approximate no worse than my own memory, a liner stream of conciousness I occassionally dump to a thumb drive or raid, but no better.