Thursdays Are For Cleaning
After living with the Wicked Witch of Apartment 421 (colloquially known as Susie) for 7.5 months (June-mid January), I had had enough. I wanted out.* I still had 4.5 months left on my lease with the Wicked Witch, unfortunately, but that didn't stop me. I worked the details out with my friend Kasey and moved in with her.
March 26, 2009 was the last night I spent at Apartment 421. I spent the next 9 days in the Pacific Northwest on spring break. The last day of spring break, April 5, 2009 was the first night in my new apartment (with my amazing new roommate, but that's a given). Fresh from my adventures, I had all the essentials for a barebones bedroom: bed and bedding, computer, cellphone, and computer.
Fast forward 2.5 months. I am completely and utterly free of all obligation to Apartment 421. (Alas, that is not so of the Wicked Witch who lived there. I still have see her one more time to deal with the security deposit reimbursement.) I have been living in Apartment 95 since the beginning of April. When I say "living," I do mean living. I'm not one of those people who naturally keeps my dwelling spotlessly clean (unless I'm living under duress of the Wicked Witch).
I spread myself comfortably around the apartment. Papers, books, computers, cups, plates, magazines, yarn, and homework cover every horizontal space and multiply like tribbles. I leave DVDs and video games piled around the TV area. Pillows, thrown from their chairs, puddle on the floor in random heaps. I could never own white carpets or a white couch because they would end up hopelessly stained. The only reason I do a sweep of my paper trail every day or so is because of the fact that I live with another human being, and we share the public rooms. My bedroom, however, is another matter entirely.
I don't share my bedroom. My bedroom is outrageously large. (Remind me to upload photos of my previous bedroom at home for comparison. My current room is outrageously large.) It can absorb a ridiculous amount of debris before it begins to feel messy. Add in the fact that I have been living with my cluttered ways for 20 years, and I can withstand a messy room for months. And I do.
I have decided that Thursdays are for cleaning. Usually I clean the bathroom. Or the kitchen counters. If I'm feeling truly adventurous, I'll clean the floors. (I hate cleaning floors with a blinding passion.) Maybe I'll take out the trash or recycling. But I never touched my room. I allowed it to wallow in its cesspool of filth. At some undefined point, however, the filth reaches the boiling point and I clean it, with a vengeance. And so Thursdays Are For Cleaning has finally, after nearly three months, reached my bedroom.
*Chronicles of the Wicked Witch of Apartment 421 will be forthcoming, hopefully, at some point.
This post is brought to you by Marley & Me on audiobook.
March 26, 2009 was the last night I spent at Apartment 421. I spent the next 9 days in the Pacific Northwest on spring break. The last day of spring break, April 5, 2009 was the first night in my new apartment (with my amazing new roommate, but that's a given). Fresh from my adventures, I had all the essentials for a barebones bedroom: bed and bedding, computer, cellphone, and computer.
Fast forward 2.5 months. I am completely and utterly free of all obligation to Apartment 421. (Alas, that is not so of the Wicked Witch who lived there. I still have see her one more time to deal with the security deposit reimbursement.) I have been living in Apartment 95 since the beginning of April. When I say "living," I do mean living. I'm not one of those people who naturally keeps my dwelling spotlessly clean (unless I'm living under duress of the Wicked Witch).
I spread myself comfortably around the apartment. Papers, books, computers, cups, plates, magazines, yarn, and homework cover every horizontal space and multiply like tribbles. I leave DVDs and video games piled around the TV area. Pillows, thrown from their chairs, puddle on the floor in random heaps. I could never own white carpets or a white couch because they would end up hopelessly stained. The only reason I do a sweep of my paper trail every day or so is because of the fact that I live with another human being, and we share the public rooms. My bedroom, however, is another matter entirely.
I don't share my bedroom. My bedroom is outrageously large. (Remind me to upload photos of my previous bedroom at home for comparison. My current room is outrageously large.) It can absorb a ridiculous amount of debris before it begins to feel messy. Add in the fact that I have been living with my cluttered ways for 20 years, and I can withstand a messy room for months. And I do.
I have decided that Thursdays are for cleaning. Usually I clean the bathroom. Or the kitchen counters. If I'm feeling truly adventurous, I'll clean the floors. (I hate cleaning floors with a blinding passion.) Maybe I'll take out the trash or recycling. But I never touched my room. I allowed it to wallow in its cesspool of filth. At some undefined point, however, the filth reaches the boiling point and I clean it, with a vengeance. And so Thursdays Are For Cleaning has finally, after nearly three months, reached my bedroom.
*Chronicles of the Wicked Witch of Apartment 421 will be forthcoming, hopefully, at some point.
This post is brought to you by Marley & Me on audiobook.
