Cleaning My Room...?

     I have an issue with wasting beautiful days. So far this summer, I've been really blessed with work on the days it’s been drizzly or windy out, and been free on the sunnier days. Today I happened to have a day off on what was probably one of the nicest days of the summer so far. I haven’t been outside once. I cringed with my own disapproval and disappointment at that sad confession as I typed it, but I really have not been. Literally, I have not taken one step outside on this beautiful day of sun and warmth and singing birds.
I have no good excuse, but I did have good intentions. This was me trying to be disciplinary. You see, my room has reached a new level of atrocity. I’m really not a messy person, honestly. I thrive on organization. All my “stuff” is pretty neatly stored or displayed; it’s the clothes that get me. I have three laundry baskets just for myself, but when I get dressed, I tend to just drop my clothes on the floor. This started as a bad habit I would only exhibit when in a hurry. I would promise to sort the clothes later, when I wasn't so rushed. Over time, it’s grown worse and worse. I recently rearranged my room by pushing my bed up against the wall by my window, so as to have more floor space. I have a very beautiful wooden floor, so I was glad when I could actually see it! In its current state, my floor could be carpeted as far as anybody else could tell. I try to clean my room regularly, but somewhere in between the pick-ups and laundry days, my large floor space becomes inundated with my wardrobe. It’s a problem.
     That being said, I had previously decided to dedicate this entire day to finally taking care of the issue that is my bedroom. I was going to sort all the strewn articles of clothing, do as many loads of laundry as I needed to, and do all my other cleaning maintenance. I woke up this morning telling myself I couldn't go do anything outside until my room was completely clean. I started my day off right with the breakfast of champions, for encouragement: waffles with banana slices and raspberry syrup. I really don’t know what happened between then and now—yes I do, the internet—but the sun is nearly setting at this point and my room is in the same appalling state it has been all week.
     When I shamefully went back downstairs after a few hours in my room, in which I napped, read, and watched Hunter Hayes’ live concert—which I think is a pretty good excuse, because, I mean, how often can you watch something like that live? I needed to know that he was singing those songs at the exact same time I was sitting in my messy room, not doing any form of cleaning. If I watched it after cleaning my room, it wouldn't be live anymore, and it just wouldn't be the same, ok. It just wouldn't be. Stop judging me. Anyways, I made my way downstairs for some dinner, and before my sister even asked me how my room was coming along, all I said was, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I told her I had accomplished more than she thinks today, like, I survived, which is a pretty big deal. I kept myself alive today by breathing and eating and drinking water. And now I've got this sweet little ramble off the checklist, so this day hasn't been completely unsuccessful. I hope you've been inspired by my lack of motivation and supreme laziness. I think I’ll go clean my room now. I don’t know. Maybe. Probably not.
     Always, Anna