two posts, one night, insanity.

My thoughts on messy rooms:

I don't mind them. As long as the inhabitant can function somewhat reasonably, they are just fine by me. Some people need pristine organization in their room to function. Some people like a little bit of clutter. Take me, for example. I like a really organized room just as much as the next person, but I can handle the mess because usually I made it and I don't have time to clean it up. So, where it looks like complete and utter chaos to someone like my mom, I know where everything is and how it got there. I also don't mind being in a place where the person made their own mess, as long as it's their place. Like when I babysit. Sure, it's a little annoying to try and function with the stuff all over the place so you can't find things you need to find, but you don't have to live there forever. But when someone else comes in and messes up my room, I hate it with a passion. I start going crazy. When it's my mess, I don't feel like I have to take up time that I would rather be doing something else to clean it, because I can always do it later. But when it's my sisters' and mom's mess in my room, I have to clean it up all at once because I can't stand it at all. And then I'm mad because I'd rather be doing something else. And then I start making crazy sounds. But as the room gets cleaner, my mood lightens and I get to feeling better. Not as crazy. I think that when I have a house of my own, I will keep it semi-clean. At least smelling clean. I hate it when houses smell like stay-at-home-mom-that-doesn't-clean-very-well/stinky-diaper-baby. If mine ever turns into that, I'd die. I think mine will be crazy because my kids will probably be crazy, but not dirty. Messy, but not dirty. There's a difference. And I bet that with my own house, it won't be as messy because I'll have more places to put stuff. My whole "house" is essentially all in my room. So, what I'm trying to say is that I hate it when Jill and Charlotte spend all day in my room and then Mom comes in and forces me to clean it, insulting my personal space. Because it's not her space- she doesn't have to understand why I don't care that there's not a "clear pathway around my bed."

I can't wait to have my own space.