Every small thing in my house unmakes my bed

I have a small bedroom. The kind of place where if I pick my shoes up off the floor, I’ve doubled my floor space.

I am also a slob.

You can see how this might be problematic. Because of the size of my room, I’ve trained myself to make my bed.

I’m disproportionately proud of this. Any time I behave like an adult, I’m mightily impressed. I was never a neat and organized person to begin with. It never seemed important to me- until suddenly, it was. Suddenly- because literally overnight (September 11, 2006- not that I’m counting) there were five kids walking along behind me, not only laying their own messes down all over the place, but also undoing any bit of good work I’d managed to accomplish. It has been a slow, painful process trying to keep from drowning in the clutter and keep track of my car keys. I feel I’ve made a lot of progress in four years.

But still, every small thing in my house unmakes my bed.

I took these pictures in about seventy seconds. I lose count of how many times I make my bed in a day. Sadly, I didn’t get the final picture, the one where the Evil Brown dog wriggled her way to the edge and fell off the bed, yanking down the rest of the duvet, in its entirety, on top of her. She made a very satisfying-sounding thump and then I lost sight of her for a while.


Comment. It gives me a reason not to clean my house.

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