operation screwup

since nobody appears to be blogging, i shall :)

my mum's currently pissing me off bigtime
she and goof are the same, ie. both demand cleaning to be fast, efficient, snappy.
while i'm like dad
we would mull for ages over what should be kept/thrown
truth be told, we could do cleanup for years and never be done.
we end up keeping everything like garang gunis,
and possibly storing even more "trash".
but if rushed, then the therapeutic feel in packing would be gone, no?
i like my own rhythm and pace
reminsce wistfully over foolish sayings written in old cards
surprises like uncovering little forgotten gems tucked under grime and dirt
and be eternally grateful we've changed since the times those hideous photos were taken.

goof hastened my pace by ribbing and teasing me
alerting me to the fact that i could be stashing too much junk
in a way which was funny sweet and nice
threw away almost half the stuff littered on my desk
so now i'm typing on a clutter-free table
i can finally see the woodgrain patterns on it once more
an unbelievable feat i'm still bowled over by :)

whilst mum just kept muttering and nagging away
hello, when dammit i was trying to sleep
in the end i got so pissed it escalated into a yelling match.
what else is new.
2 days has passed and i'm almost done with the desk
all that's left now:
the swivel cupboard, 2 boxes, my wardrobe and books on the floor.
if i do one item a day, i'd make it just in time for school reopen. haa
scared to touch the boxes leh; goof said it might be the roaches' hideout.
rah.