Velociworld

OH yes. How many times did I hear my father say, 'Good Lord, it looks like a bomb went off in here?!' Actually... that sentence was usually peppered with 4 letter words and the topic of my bedroom seemed to be the catalyst for new and inventive ways to curse. Seriously, my Dad could mix words together that others would never DREAM of.

Not me, man. I lived in abject fear of my mother telling me to clean my room. I actually had the neatest room of all my friends. Dirty clothes in the hamper, bed made every morning, shoes in the little shoe bag thing, clothing hung in my closet.

After I left home, I became a total slob. Making a bed has become a thing of the past, there are two distinct piles of "clean" and "dirty" clothes on my floor, and there are papers strewn all over the desk. (I don't like the clothes thing, but until I get the cash to pick up a couple of large hampers, they'll stay that way.)