Wednesday, January 11, 2006

Signs that you're a slob

I had a funny chat with my friend Jenn tonight. I was describing how messy my apartment is and how I should be tidying it up instead of chatting on msn. I have a chair in my room, and like many people, rather than hang up my clothes I just toss the clothes on the chair. And as weeks pass the pile gets higher and higher. But the shameful part is, the pile got so high the other day, that the whole thing toppled over, and rather than hang up the clothes I endeavored to rebuild the pile so it was stable enough to retain its former glory.

Jenn tried to convince me that her apartment was also messy. She said a sure sign that things were getting out of hand at her place were.

1) The bed is unmade
2) The dishes are piling up

THAT'S IT??? I almost NEVER make up my bed. And dishes? Foggetaboutit! I retorted with:

3) There are leaves on the floor from my dying plant.

She countered with

4) There are dustbunnies in the corners.

Me:

5) Freaking silverfish have overrun my bathroom like the Uruk Hai overran Helmsdeep.

Jenn at a loss adds the very feeble,

6) Dusty furniture

Me, confident in my surpreme filthiness end it all with the shameful,

7) Sometimes, rather than take the garbage downstairs, I start a second garbage bag outside of the can and start filling that up!!!

Game, set, match!

I'm aware of the unnaceptable state of my apartment. I dont' try to justify it. And if I am about to have company over I do manage to clean things up to make the place acceptable. My crowning achievement is I seem to have defeated the silverfish in my apartment by spraying all of the radiators with raid. I haven't seen one since! Eat Piperonyl Butoxide you six legged bastards!

I think my apartment reflect my state of mind, or rather, the messiness of my apartment coaxes disorganized thought in my daily life. That's what my dad seems to think. I've been trying to find a reason for my general confusion and fragmented thought process. A messy apartment seems like a likely candidate.

The thought of my mess does come back to haunt me throughout the day sometimes. "Mmm... I left that plate with maple syrop in it at my computer desk didn't I?" And as my mind wanders back to the chaos of my apartment, that chaos manifests itself as me doing something particularly inept at work. For every derelict t-shirt in my apartment, I spill one beaker of chloroform in the lab. For every unwashed dish I accidently light a co-worker on fire... Beware... Masta's messiness may claim the life of you or one you love!

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