My mother’s been nagging at me for, like, forever to clean up my room, and when I finally do she asks me if I’ve gone mad.
“What’s gotten into you? Your room is so… clean!”
But it makes me happy, and my room is once again functional.
When I was still working, life was always a mad rush. I would wake up in the morning and discover I am running late for work, get dressed and hurry out of the house, only to come back so late from church meetings or being out with friends that the only thing I did in my room was to sleep.
It got worst during my dad’s bankruptcy scare because I had to pack all my important things in boxes and bags and had it transported to Maddy’s and then back when the coast was clear. I never got round to unpacking and putting things back where they belonged.
I thank God for my maid who somehow always made sense of the chaos and tidy up my room when I am out, but I simply had too many things. There were always new letters and documents, books and CDs, shoes and bags... I would stack ‘em all in a corner, and once the corner was full I found another place. I soon got so annoyed by the accumulation of my possessions I gave up.
With my new-found luxury of time, I began the painstaking process of going through the mess and forced myself to throw away things that served no purpose or sentimental value to me. Being the hoarder I am, it was hard at first, but it became such a cathartic experience ridding myself of all those junk I began to actually enjoy the process.
I revived the cosy corner under my loft bed- threw out my ancient hi-fi which stopped working a century ago and single-handedly dismantled the monster Philips player from the elaborate sound system my dad set up in our living room and fixed it up in my room. I rearranged my collection of CDs into different genres. I placed a bright lamp that allowed me to read. There is even a white-frammed montage of David Tao photos which I took from his Ultrasound CD sleeve! I transferred my giant Pooh and Woodstock into my brother’s room and he doesn’t seem to notice or mind (hah!). I washed my red IKEA rug and propped up giant cushions against the wall. I set up a bookshelf with all my Christian literature.
I also tore down all the peeling pictures I had covered my white IKEA wardrobe with, using my metal ruler and eraser to remove any hint of sticky tape. I remember being very angry one night and tearing up magazines and doing a giant collage on its doors as some form of artistic release. It is now stripped bare of all the pretentious supposedly-beautiful fashionable people and it stares at me, strangely naked but so pristinely white I wish I could show it off to everyone I know.
I cleaned out my wardrobe and shoe rack, gave away ill-fitting or seldom-worn items to my maid, which made her very happy.
I threw out the towering stack of magazine haphazardly stacked on the giant Adidas chest under my study table. I changed the fabric backdrop of my notice board and stuck on new postcards and the black and white photos I bought from Thapae Gate in Chiangmai.
I placed a mirror by the window and laid out all my cosmetic items with it.
I put up my red curtains again!
All my Thai books, my NIV Thompson Chain Study Bible and some bible study materials are atop my computer table, next to my most frequently-played CDs on a small rack. My software and burnt CDs are stored in a brown IKEA box. I tracked down on Yahoo! Auctions the cradle for my Palm M130 which I had lost and got it at a real bargain. The Zen-like lamp Armin got me from Bangkok provides the perfect finishing touch.
I can’t get over how lovely my room looks. Maybe I should put up photos.