Times are Hard

Every thing's a hit or miss these days. Perhaps that just how it starts. Today I woke up ridiculously early, the sun wasn't even out and I tried all possible things (while still laying in bed) to get back to sleep. Maybe this is just my body's way of preparing itself for these brutal mornings I will most definitely endure this fall. Am I preparing well? Most likely not, which is why I'm writing about this very bizarre event. It's a tad embarrassing that I like to refer to an early bird morning as "bizarre". It really shows character. And without trying to demean myself much further I'd had to say it's quite correct portrayal. Although I must say after the shock of waking up in still, cold, darkness I feel quite energetic. Lucky me.

Today I can't think of a single thing to do. Or at least a single thing that I'd enjoy doing. I mean there's always the obligatory room tidy and housekeeping. But really now, didn't God intend for Sundays to be relaxing and
joyful? As I laid in bed, struggling to fall back asleep, counting the amount of hours I had received... I also in my multitaskful wonder, thought about cleaning my room. Now, at a quick glance it probably looks like a fine and neat teenage room. With all the flaws of pocket clutter, but overall well put together. Now yesterday night, as my uncle trots around the house fixing things I had never known were broken and breaking things of great value he tells me that he's going to do something with the heater in my room. I've roughed out countless winters shivering in that blizzard box, so I made no hesitation to his first wish. Clean out the area in front of the heater. If put simply, one could say there is just a small night table covering a small space of the heater. But in truth, it was quite a mess. My whole room was a horrid mess.

Here comes the adventure. Now, there are times where my room is really neat and nice, but more often than not it is a storm of clothes, paper and plastic. It could actually be a homeless mans secret burial. So me, in my pride, cannot let a male or another family member(besides immediate cause they see the dirt of the dirt) see this tragedy. As soon as he said to clear the area, I got up and calmly made my way to my room. Of course I can't let everyone know that I'm rushing to make a quick scrub. Doing exactly so I probably took about an hour and a half. Throwing away useless garbage, stuffing clothes into my hamper(and when that was full) two luggage's and a closet. I made my bed organized a few products on my desk, rearranged my stuffed animals. And frebreezed for a final touch of comeliness.

The end effect? Not a word was said about my room. Just the way I wanted it to be. The ultimate goal was to not have a satirical uncle spill on and on about "this girls room". And indeed did I succeed. But at the same time I really did not want praise for " such a clean room" because then of course, it will always need to look clean and neat. And I for one cannot stand cleaning for the sake of consistency.

Perhaps that hour and a half of shuffling around my room really did me in that night, and was perhaps the reason knocked out so quickly and thus, arose so early this morning. I really cannot stand it when my room gets so messy I need TIME to clean it. Perhaps I'll try and keep it neat from now on. But not so neat where I can't find personality. I'm in a love/hate relationship I suppose.