June 6th, 2003


(no subject)

Was supposed to clean my room yesterday since my sister Pam was coming over and she needs a place to sleep. So the main reason for cleaning my room was to clear off a place for my sister to sleep. That was the point. And that really was my intention when I started out.

My intentions are always good. My mother says, "The road to hell is paved with good intentions," so if anyone dies in the immediate future and finds themselves pleasantly surprised by the road maintenance conditions in hell..."This is so pleasant! I had no idea it would be so well paved!"...that's me. That is all my doing. I have so many good intentions. The highway department in hell saves millions of dollars a year on supplies, thanks to all my good intentioned projects that never actually go anywhere...

So the guest bed looks atrocious. Like a hurricane passed through the room and hit just this one bed--there are clothes all over it and papers and about thirty dollars in coins. This bed needs to be cleaned off very badly. And I am looking at it with my hands on my hips, muttering to myself like Rain Man..."Bed's very messy. Yep. Very...very messy. Very...stuff all over it. Yep. MESSY. Yep."
Which is why I decide that this is the perfect time to ...re-arrange my bookshelf; a task which takes between 45 minutes and an hour and is not noticeable to anyone other than myself, but which does, if my mom comes in to check on me, technically count as cleaning my room.
Or as straightening up my room, rather. Cleaning my room never involves any actual cleaning. Cleaning my room means arranging my room so that it's really neat and tidy, putting things in little piles, yet completely ignoring multiple toddler-sized balls of dust that are blowing around under the furniture.

So my sister came home and has all these retarded-looking facial expressions that she keeps using, to the point where they're so exaggerated, I'm wondering if she's hoping to land her own children's show on Nickelodeon. She has bruises all over her legs from working at Home Depot, and apparently some woman in a supermarket came up to her, put her hand on Pam's shoulder and said, "Honey-- he's not worth it," implying, of course, that my sister looks like she belongs in a battered women's shelter.

And hey, will you look at that! There was no plot, theme, or point to this entire entry.

But it's been a nice visit with her, all in all. I'm going to go clear off the things that were formerly on the guest bed and are now on the floor, but of course I'm not really going to do that. "I'm going to clear off the things that were formerly on the guest bed," is really just code for, "I'm going spend an hour re-arranging my entire CD collection."