(tl;dr Feel free to skip to the magical/NYNY bit here.)
|Example: Approximately 300 metric fucktons of grade-A fail.|
|Never thought I'd be happy to |
no longer have a desk.
It starts with the mail. Now, I've never lived with someone that gets as much mail (most of it legitimate) as my roommate. Maybe it's her refusal to do anything business-related online, but I'd never seen a larger-than-average mailbox stuffed to the brim every day until I moved here. What most people don't realize is, this masses of mail this large collapse and condense into smaller, but I'm convinced sentient (and evil) clusters, which somehow invade the entire house like rodents. Every surface outside my bubble is eventually affected, which causes enough dirt and dust to build up that by the time it all gets sorted properly (into a legit full-size filing cabinet), cleaning all the house surfaces is a multi-day job. I'm really not trying to make my roommate sound like a slob, it's honestly just a volume issue. It is rather entertaining, though, to see an issue I once had (albeit with school papers) reflected outwardly like this; if nothing else, it solidifies the advantage of the "do it now" principle I've been trying to adopt, in that these torturous cleaning sessions could be mostly avoided if there were a daily read/file/shred routine.
|So that's where I left that.|
| Alternatively, I need to work on my|
My first weekend home in a month, and I'm spending it cleaning? New me, indeed.