In the spirit of a New Year, mother went into a obsessive spring cleaning mode. Ive currently diagnosed her with MidAgeObsessive-Compulsive-I-Cant-Keep-Still-Cos-I-Love-Spring-Cleaning Disorder.
It was in its early stages when i first detected it, but it accelerated at such a speed, it spun out of control (much to her delight) - and with this spinning blur of clothes and dust went my spiralling health, social life and homework.
Effectively, my typical teenage "organised mess" themed lair, is now an OCD patient's ( or tim or lubna ) heaven. Sparkling floor. And everything kept in boxes, arranged all neatly in squares courtesy of ikea. And half my apparel has gone missing - courtesy of Salvation Army and Muhammadiya Homes.( honestly, thats the only good that came out of this scrubbing frenzy)
Another thing that emerged through the floating dust (that eventually led to me fainting and fallin into convulsions for 4 hours in a hospital) , was this piece of prose-ish whatnot. Enjoy.
This squeaky clean sterile insane "serenity" is the potential breeding ground for rampant multiplying mess self-imposed by your's truly.
Sorry Mother, but a bare table is bare beyond belief. I swear, the white is squeeling( squeaking, actually) for help for its nakedness has left it cold and helpless.
My music richocettes off these dusted walls and echo through the newly exposed corners and shelves - free from the cobbwebs and the assortments of poo that used to adorn them so perculiarly.
My memorabilia-free room i too large for comfort and the sudden room for air gives me the feeling that there is the comforting mess creeping in.
I cant help it.
To mess is in my nature. And my habitat is my clothing and paper drenched bed and floor. My community of roaches and rodents are now dead - and this barren cold marble tiles is a graveyard of what was once Home.
Do note that hyperbolic language was used for effect. No rodents were really hurt in the process.
It was in its early stages when i first detected it, but it accelerated at such a speed, it spun out of control (much to her delight) - and with this spinning blur of clothes and dust went my spiralling health, social life and homework.
Effectively, my typical teenage "organised mess" themed lair, is now an OCD patient's ( or tim or lubna ) heaven. Sparkling floor. And everything kept in boxes, arranged all neatly in squares courtesy of ikea. And half my apparel has gone missing - courtesy of Salvation Army and Muhammadiya Homes.( honestly, thats the only good that came out of this scrubbing frenzy)
Another thing that emerged through the floating dust (that eventually led to me fainting and fallin into convulsions for 4 hours in a hospital) , was this piece of prose-ish whatnot. Enjoy.
This squeaky clean sterile insane "serenity" is the potential breeding ground for rampant multiplying mess self-imposed by your's truly.
Sorry Mother, but a bare table is bare beyond belief. I swear, the white is squeeling( squeaking, actually) for help for its nakedness has left it cold and helpless.
My music richocettes off these dusted walls and echo through the newly exposed corners and shelves - free from the cobbwebs and the assortments of poo that used to adorn them so perculiarly.
My memorabilia-free room i too large for comfort and the sudden room for air gives me the feeling that there is the comforting mess creeping in.
I cant help it.
To mess is in my nature. And my habitat is my clothing and paper drenched bed and floor. My community of roaches and rodents are now dead - and this barren cold marble tiles is a graveyard of what was once Home.
Do note that hyperbolic language was used for effect. No rodents were really hurt in the process.
