I used to be overly critical about my room. Not two weeks will go by that I will not have the urge to pick up broom and mop and clean my room from walls to floor. I became so obsessed with my room that I would not let anyone else even attempt to clean it; even when it seems disorganized, I know where everything was, and a different pair of hands touching my stuff would mean loosing track of where my things are.
Then my workload suddenly multiplied exponentially and I was left with little time under my domain. It didn't help as well that I kept changing rooms, or rather, Matriarch kept moving me from room to room. There even came a point that I transfered rooms thrice in the same year. I lost track of some of my stuff because of that, and my drive to clean wavered. After all, why should I exert too much effort in cleaning room when I am not even assured of my permanence in that place.
Over time the zealous urge to clean was lost, and my room became a seeming jungle of books and knick-knacks piled to one place or another with no logic or organization. The old twice a week purging was lost until it became a chore to be done only on the bluest of moons.
And today was one of those rare celestial occurrences.
The day started out lazily, but thankfully, I was able to pick up enough steam and start my erstwhile favorite activity. More than just moving dirt around, cleaning my room also involves moving the furnitures around. The purging isn't complete when I am not able to move stuff about. And therein lies the heart of my problem: my stuff are too bulky, or too large to move around. For a long time, I've been trying out in my head different permutations of how to rearrange the furnitures, but I was stuck with the old one I used to have. It did serve its purpose, but it left me with too little floor space to move about that you have no other choice but lie in the bed once inside the room. For month after month, I have been lethargic while within my domain because its arrangement left nothing else to do inside.
Finally, after months of merely thinking about it, I decided to clean, and to move my things about. And there were some...things... that gave me quite a stir. I do love our pets; they even sleep with me on the bed sometimes, but those rascals have turned the space under my bed into their personal cesspool, taking care to do their business on the farthest side, out of reach and out of sight of my previous cursory cleanings. No wonder my room smells like dog! Further cleaning also revealed a bunch of papers remnants from my old job. I confess, it gave me a certain amount of vindictive glee throwing those papers out.
Finally, I have a clean room, or at least clean enough to be comfortable with. I still have some more things to do, which will be done over the next weekends to come, but at least I have made considerable headstart today.