A Sliver to a Slice to a Slab to a Slob

I'm a messy person.

I think it's because I was raised by my mother, who is an obsessively clean and neat person. It was like a crime lab where I grew up, white and sterile, as if William Peterson was going to burst in any moment and demand the results of his DNA sample. You could probably eat off the floor of the garage.

True story: I've been lectured before for leaving my shoes on the floor by the stairs, as opposed to on a pre-specified step itself. And not just told not to leave my shoes on the floor. Lectured. Scolded, you might say.

So, my messiness might just be rebellion against an uptight, rigid tyranny of hygiene during my youth. Or maybe I'm just too lazy to clean all the time. I can't know for sure.

But today, I've finally become disgusted enough by my room to clean up. First, I threw out all the trash. There were two large trash bags worth. Considering that my room has roughly the same square footage as my high school locker, this is far too much. Then, I went through the large pile of dirty laundry on the floor next to my bed, sorting out "Clothes That, While Somewhat Dirty and Already Worn Don't Give Off An Offensive Odor" from "Clothes So Messy They Have Comic-Strip-Style Stink Lines Radiating Off Them And Flies Buzzing Around."

Now, I'm taking a short break. I believe the next step will be to actually do some of this laundry, and dare I say, perhaps even run a vacuum. The last time my room was vacuumed was when it was made of molecules, and all the matter is the universe was compressed into a small ball in the vacuum of space. It's been a while, is what I'm saying.

It sucks to work all week and then have two precious little days off, and then you feel guilty and spend them cleaning. How about a little me time, damned!