March 7th, 2009

Pluto close up

It is clean!

So, I decided to have my mom vacuum my room. Vacuum is a weird word. Anyway, back to the point. I know what you're thinking 'you're a grown ass man, why don't YOU vacuum your own room?' Well, dear readers, I will tell you why I do not vacuum my own room: because the last time I did it I got yelled at. My mom, pissy as she frequently can be, was like "YOU NEED TO CLEAN YOUR ROOM!!!" so I did. And that included using the vacuum. I didn't break it, but she swore up and down that I did, and that by her definition cleaning the room did not equate to using the vacuum. I had sinned greatly in her eyes by daring to touch the holy vacuum with my heathen hands. Ergo, I no longer vacuum my own room because I don't want to face her idiotic wrath. I don't take advantage of it, though. I think this is the first time I've had the room vacuumed all year.

It feels good having a clean room. Or at least a clean floor. Most of you know my spending habits. They are mammoth. And I love being able to spend like a crazy person without a care. But the amount of spending I do means that I have less and less room for the stuff I buy. This means that I have an extremely, and I do mean extremely, cluttered bedroom. It's quite bad. I could do something about that, but it would take far, far too long. And now I have a Westlife song stuck in my head. Which I can't name off the top of my head. I think My Love. No, wait, I lay my love on you. They sing ballads, it's why I love them.

The funny part about this cluttered bedroom is that half of my stuff is in storage. Where it will likely remain until the end of time. Or until I move out. So, really, the end of time.

Then I pine-soled a part of the carpet that still has the lingering smell of cat urine. Too many animals. At least they no longer go under my bed. At the old house I had to block my bed with boxes to keep them from going down there. It was quite bad.

And now to write.