I hate cleaning my room. I love living in my own scattered reality. Some call it a 'pigsty', but they'd be wrong. Pigs are clean. I'm just creative with the way I arrange objects in my room.
Once every so often, someone complains about my art, they just don't get it. Suddenly pest inspectors are used as an excuse to wrench away creative control over my room.
The time has come to stifle my creativity or 'clean my room'. This involves myself, a big black plastic bag, a tissue box to counter the inevitable dust bunny attack and an awful lot of boredom.
I haven't 'cleaned my room' in well over six months. How do I know this? Adam has never seen my room tidy. Tee hee. I can't even remember the last time I could close my wardrobe door. Perhaps tonight will be the night. I'm not too sure. I'll give you running updates of my performance. Here's the pictures of my room in its original clean state at 8.16pm. Updates will be given hourly.
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