this is what happens when I start to clean my room:
I start playing dress up with forgotten clothes that have been hidden under the couch for god-knows-how-long.
I find my art journals and start doodling.
I find old Polaroids, get sentimental, and start blogging.
I get sleepy and take a nap.
I find the dozen pieces of scrap paper with notes to myself of songs I need to dl, and get lost in itunes.
Or... start a dance party in my pieced together random dress up outfit (most the time chiffon or undies) to the newly acquired play list while photographing areas of my room that I've staged last time I tried to clean my room.
Why can't I just be normal and start a load of laundry like everyone else?
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