Technically, this blog is for my College Composition class. We'll post three blogs for a grade later, but I wanted to do this one, just for me. Let's just call it a practice run.
Recently, I have encountered a bit of a mouse problem in my bedroom. I have a terrible habit of taking all my treasures and such up to my room and just leaving them sit where they fall, chocolate bunnies included. As it turns out, mice like chocolate.
I live in an old farmhouse, on the second floor above the living room. This is the biggest bedroom, and my grandma and her sister used to share it (how, I have no clue), then it was my parent's room, and now it's all mine. It has a huge East facing window, and the insulation is crappy to say the least. The drywall is only being held up by wallpaper that my grandma picked out when she was still living here, about 50 years ago, and the wallpaper isn't doing to great either. There's a few holes in the walls, and places where the wallpaper is peeling itself off of the walls, begging me to put an end to it's miserable life. But instead of fixing it correctly, I've just used massive amounts of spray adhesive and masking tape to keep things together, because fixing it would require completely gutting the room and starting from scratch. Who has time for that?
Anyhow, my room is a complete mess, and the mouse (or mice. I'm not entirely sure.) is treating my room like a never ending buffet. For the last few days, I've just been letting it happen, I even named the mouse Rexy, and just ignored the little guy. But now I'm constantly paranoid that Rexy is chewing on something that I want to keep in good condition.
Earlier, I decided to clean my room. I didn't, but I decided that if I am going to clean my room, everything is going into mouse-proof totes. I might as well just start packing then! That got me to thinking about what I want to put into a box labeled 'things for graduation/ grad party' and I began looking around my room.
Obviously at this point, I was just putting off the idea of cleaning, because I started getting pretty philosophic. I started questioning what the things in my room say about me. Are the two completely different vanities that face each other across the room representing my parents, staring at each other's differences as I walk between them and get things from both of them? Do the boxes that have been packed since I moved from the little house on 8th Street to the big blue house on L Street mean that I have issues with letting go of things (okay, that may be completely true)? Do the crappy drawings of myself I drew in first and forth grade show how I really view myself? Do I over analyze things to the point of driving myself crazy? Probably.
Also, the title made you lose. Ha.
