Margaret Weis and Cleaning.

Yesterday, I was sitting on the couch, the view of my face blocked my a Margaret Weis(AND Tracy Hickman!)book. Suddenly a realization dawned on me. My book snapped down, revealing my morose but resigned facial expression. Silently I said,

"It's time."

I grabbed a broom as my main weapon, and a dustpan as my shield. Alone, but not defenseless, I strutted off into the dark abyss.

The dark abyss being my room, which had been left stagnant for too long and so it developed a venomous hatred for me. It's desire to bury me in an avalanche of dirty clothes and socks grew too apparent for me to ignore. So I set out to clean it. And yes, cleaning my room is like reading an epic fantasy novel, except instead of slaying dragons I am picking up rancid socks. (Which could be as deadly.)

Okay, my lame attempt at epic prose aside, I'm going to say this: I am not a clean person. No, I don't leave uneaten food anywhere or to that extent, but I am not tidy. As an example, I have a tendency to throw my clothes everywhere, which makes my room look like a blanket covered mountain. My computer desk is covered to the brim with fruit snack wrappers and my bed is never fixed. I was tired of looking at Mess, so I decided to kill Mess. Mess is apparently very hard to kill.

First things first, I walk into my room. I had been blocking out Mess until this point so I kind of shocked myself with how messy Mess was. I decided to start with my closet. I pull aside the curtain and an avalanche of clothes, just as Mess wanted, fell onto me. Swiping the clean and dirty clothes aside, I viewed into the dark pit that was my closet and sighed. My closet has not been organized in a long time, and as a result it was full of stuff. Stuff that would have scared the knickers off a full grown orc.

I started with actually hanging up my clothes. When that was done, I looked into the dark side of my closet and gasped. I have the right side and my sis has the left side. The closet goes deeper than the walls allow entrance so it's kind of like a cubby hole back there. My hole was full of fabric and notebooks full of writing material and doodles from past DnD games. Digging through the mass, I found two shirts that I thought missing for years. One was a pink pacman shirt and the other was a flowery v-neck that I used to wear.

Next, I decided to clean off the long craft desk that I have to the back of the room. After nearly impaling myself on a stray kitchen knife, I started to clean, ignoring my sister's side because Mess was strong in those parts.

My sister is an artist, and she doesn't have a pencil sharpener that holds the little chip things.

The floor was awash with pencil shavings, and I nearly thought I would need a dragonship to cross it.

RANDOM DUDE: Are you going to talk about this stuff all day?

Yes, yes I am.

Anyway, Mess was defeated eventually, although she still lingers where no broom can reach. Tifa, her evil servant, has made sure to spill my mug of water every now and then just to get even, but mostly I've been without mess for 24 hours.

Not bad if I do say so myself.