Today was supposed to be Write On The Neat Blue Notebook day. I woke up earlier than usual prepared to write down things to be accomplished. But I look at my room and figure I can't start writing with half the area covered in molehills of clothes, some fresh and some just evading the laundry (to preserve color, I claim). Plus there's a thick lining of dust all over. So I decided to use up all morning to clean up first, and then maybe write in the afternoon. Boo poor time management. Err, double boo extra unclean room.
So I spent pretty much the whole day cleaning my room. I had about an hour's worth of rest, shorts recesses plus the lunch break. And tonight am sleeping over in my parents room because tadah!I still have a rainforest's worth of paper covering the whole floor space of my room. I'd be fine tiptoeing all over that but half my bed is stacked with readings from since UP Day 1. Needless today, Operation Clean Room/ Throw Away Half The Stuff In The Room Which Is Garbage Anyway was only half a success. I was able to pull everything out -- papers, envelopes, readings, receipts, scribbles, from all the drawers and all possible orifices inside my room. And, I just found out that friendly termites/ winged-ants decided to puncture a whole they turned into an insect hallway inside my closet. The pulling out and laying everything on the floor part was easy, the putting everything in order part is what's difficult. So now, everything's on the floor and my lungs are filled to the brim with soot and dust so I had to call it a day. Okay, maybe it was NOT successful.
Tomorrow I wake up early and cross my fingers I find the energy and clarity of mind to pick up all the paper and put them where they belong -- in the drawers or maybe in the trash. I managed to turn segregating which ones go where (trash/drawer) into such an emotional and sentimental task. May be the reason why 8 hours into it and my room's still messy. I have scribbles all over my readings, and not necessarily notes about the lesson. More like commentaries on life, the teacher, the subject, or a chronicling of my most recent thought, which is more often than not irrelevant and very spur of the moment. I have song lyrics, dialogues from TV shows, random scribbles which I just know were used for ink testing new pens.
Who knew cleaning a room is such a complicated and emotional experience? And my neat blue notebook -- still no ink stains.
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