Clean-up

MY ROOM is a fire hazard. It would not be a surprise if everything in my room would just spontaneously combust one summer’s day and everything will go up in flames.

I sound like a pyromaniac.

On top of my clothes cabinet, a stack of boxes and newspapers can be found (and gathering dust). Underneath my rickety study table, I have yet another pile of newspapers steadily growing. In another corner, I have a steadily growing pile of handouts and photocopies (mostly journalism, literature and advertising photocopies.) And I own a cramped bookshelf.

Now, throw in a match and everything will go up in flames.

As chaotic as my room may seem, I promise you that it isn’t that bad. It’s more of an “organized chaos” than chaotic in general.

I’m sure a lot of teenagers will agree with me here.

I’ve been trying to clean up my room for some time now. But with school keeping me busy, the only time I come home is for sleep, a bath and to change my clothes (in that order).

Before things got extremely busy with school, my room was fairly organized. Everything was where it was supposed to be. But once school started keeping me on my feet 20 hours a day, there was hardly time to organize and keep the room clean.

Now I live in a fire hazard zone and I have dust bunnies under my bed.

I’ve been trying to find time to clean my room. It’s astonishing that I simply cannot find time to pick up a broom and start cleaning. But then again, I don’t own a broom, so, perhaps that was just it. Just to let you know, the broom in our boarding house mysteriously disappears once in a while.

It’s rather funny. I used to think I’m well equipped with cleaning materials. I got cockroach repellant for roach invasions, fly paper, rags, detergent and the whatnots. Yet I do not own a broom. How embarrassing.

One night, I was contemplating over my room’s doomed future while waiting for my interviewee to arrive. I sat by a roadside café and all of the sudden a peddler walked by carrying a bundle of brooms on his back.

Ladies and gentlemen, I knew that that was a sign. God has spoken, I just knew it.

But God sure knew how to keep His conversations short.

My source arrived and as we exchanged greetings, my room’s salvation walked down the street, brooms still on his back.

It’s ok, I consoled myself. I had to think of it this way, had I bought the broom, I would have looked like a total idiot carrying a broom around while conducting the interview.

Bottom line boys and girls, clean your room. Don’t wait for dust bunnies to grow and your room to catch fire. And don’t wait for the roadside broom man to sell you his brooms–he walks fast.