My Messy Room
I am currently sitting in my bedroom, on a cold winter day. My feet touching the rough surface of my ancient Persian carpet, walls of orangey orange stare at me through the pictures on them, and the mountains of dirty clothes falling over me as if there was an avalanche going on. Today is not going well as I feel stressed from all the chores that I have, plus the cleaning of my over infected room. Even though every visitor that gets to see my room may suffer blindness from seeing the mess, I love this room because it has a certain warmth and glow that allows my mind to rest in peaceful bliss. Yes, maybe there is a smell of wet dog and there are pets that I never brought home crawling around every corner of this room but it is the place where I grew up and feel safe to be when I am down. There are so many great treasures hidden in this room that as soon as I clean, I feel water drops fall from my dark brown eyes and run across my cheeks until they fall from my chin and hit the floor. Out of a 24 hour day I may only take 7 hours to get this place spotless and be able to observe the wonders hidden inside of the black door that covers the entrance.
The day has come so I have to clean my room. I get the mop, the broom, and cleaning chemicals my mom has left for me. Every step I give liberates a smell that makes my nose want to give up on me. The orangey orange walls seem to cry for the day the spiders will not crawl up on them anymore. My carpet at last is vacuumed with a 50 year old vacuum that my grandma had left for me. I can’t believe that my room looks so big and clean in such a short period of time. The walls are now more of a bright orangey orange and the carpet gives a nice tropical fruit smell from a chemical I have to put on it. My mother as soon as she arrives from her job runs to me and gives me 20 dollars so I don’t understand why I don’t like cleaning my room if I get rewarded for doing it. My drawers are not vomiting my clothing out of...
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