Cleaning Out My Closet

and Room. Quite literally.

As I opened my door for the nteenth time since I’d been home, my mother cried out “that’s it, no more!” and some other things that basically meant today was the day that I had to clean my room.

This isn’t any typical messy room. Oh no. It could compete for Olympic medals (or at least help me train for the long jump, high jump, or the pole vault). You’re getting the idea, right?

Mounds upon mounds of clothing, boxes, and various materials from my previous 6.5 years of schooling, the later 2.5 of which were shoved in various corners of my walk-in closet. I had these two notebooks that were dedicated to my two final semesters in high school, and about 47 notebooks dedicated to my 2.5 years of college.

One of the notebooks that wasn’t with my school materials, was conveniently shoved under my bed. I think this was to prevent anyone from finding it, but of course, when one is in a cleaning frenzy (and would like to be diverted), one looks under one’s bed to find such reading material. It was my journal from senior year of high school. The first semester of it, anyway. No, not the kind of journal that is covered with I ❤ [insert boy’s name here], but the kind that you’re forced to keep by a dual credit English professor.

My mom prevented me from reading it whilst I was cleaning, but fortunately I got so bored watching the Cowboy’s game that I decided to read it while drinking some mint hot cocoa, thinking of a list of items which are better hot, and finally deciding to blog about it.

Needless to say, it was great reading material and I may (or may not, depending on my sanity) post a series of blogs dedicated to the lovely writing style which was displayed in my English journal.

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