The concept of cleaning

When my room looks like this:

What's the point?

I wonder, why clean it up when in just another day or so, it will look precisely the same?

I know I have nice clothes that should be hung in my walk-in closet (I have a walk-in closet, I have zero excuse not to maximize this dream), but for some reason, hanging clothes on hangers and stuffing them in an accommodating, although busting, place seems less than enjoyable.  I’d venture to say it is one of my least favorite chores.

Similarly, I hate folding. When I worked at a clothing store, my manager told me I was the worst folder she ever encountered and that I should help the customers, which I was good at, as she had to redo what I did anyway. I hated that folding board and sweater season with an unhealthy passion. This is evident in my dresser and the balls of clothes stuffed inside.

Messy drawers and clothing vomit all across my digs aside, I really like to have a clean room.  I function better, I feel more at ease, and I don’t trip over everything–especially at night if I get up in the dark. Sleepiness only exacerbates clumsiness.

However, when I clean, I can never find anything and I know what’s going to happen in the end anyway–it will just get messy again.

Cleaning makes me feel like Sisyphus, constantly pushing that boulder up the hill, only to have it roll back down and to begin again.

Don’t even get me started on the bathroom…

That little white spot is where I curl up in a fetal-like position to sleep.


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