The Doctor’s lifestyle was impossibly haphazard and chaotic. One day they’d be on an alien planet, the next they might be in the distant past, or on a far future space station.
The interior of the TARDIS seemed to be as disorganised as the Doctor himself, with rooms appearing and disappearing at random; it was a wonder he could ever find anything. Hugger-mugger, that’s what her Granddad would call it; he’d be right at home, but Donna was an orderly person, organised and efficient as befitted a temp. She wasn’t used to such a topsy-turvy life. She’d sort him out.