About a week ago, my mom announced that we had guests arriving in two days time, and that one of them would be using my bedroom for the duration of her stay. I like to think that I'm somewhat generous, and didn't complain once about being booted from my beloved abode, but I do understand that it was entirely a manipulative plot on the part of my mother.
You see, if a guest were to be staying my room, I would have to clean it. Quickly. So I did.
It was a horrible experience. I tell you, it's a good thing I don't have asthma, because I would have died. The vacuum almost choked when I took it behind my drawers.
But now it's glorious. I can see the floor, and I am no longer in danger of crushing something important when I swing my legs out of bed each morning. All my important papers are no longer a second carpet, but neatly thrown into a cardboard box. My socks, though still mismatched, are now stuffed into a plastic bin. The DUST - it's GONE! And my closet has been reorganized: dirty clothes in the laundry bag, clean clothes on the shelves.
Now I just have to rescue my pet fish from its own filth and give my stuffed lamb, Charmin, a bath. Wow. My room feels so much bigger!
Speaking of messes:
"If stupidity got us into this mess, then why can't it get us out?" Will Rogers