• Mood: weird
• Music: accuradio-something from mystery of edwin drood

In the beginning it was fun . . .

My bedroom is clean.

No, really, stop laughing. mister_biv, curlycutie, and amoslynn00 have born witness to my new clean sleeping space (knoph saw it in an early incarnation). The quagmire o' clutter has been cleared.

The problem is that I'm running out of things to do, but not the desire to do them.

I've become a compulsive bedroom cleaner.

First, I picked up the clothes, then the other stuff on the floor. Then I vacuumed, sorted the stuff in rubbermaid tubs in my closet, hung shelves, and dusted. I still have this intense urge to make it CLEANER. What happened to the old me?

Now that it's clean, it feels empty. I need to hang stuff on the walls. Maybe I'll post pictures so you can see. One of the least gay things about me, according to my roommates, is my bedroom.

During this, I've realized that I have FOUR tubs of books at the apartment. When did that happen? Add to that the 4 or 5 tubs I have in my dad's barn, and I have one hell of a library.