Never to be mistaken as a mere sleeping quarters, my room is my world. I can stay for days inside its walls, emerging from the depths of its cocoon only to pee, to shower or to dump at the bathroom. Everything from the desktop computer to the only working cable-ready tv at home is found within my space. Not even the master's bedroom - twice in size - could boast such comforts. There is a 6-tiered bookcase across the queen-size bed. The dresser not only attends to the wardrobe but it also serves as a repository of memories. Photo albums, letters, even toys, delicately arranged so that every box tells a childhood story. Beyond these wooden megaliths are uncluttered spaces reflecting my desired state of mind.
Twice every year, I let things become disordered. Not only does the bedlam bring upheaval. A general cleaning assured that everything found within my world is accounted for and serves a purpose.