I snort when I laugh, I love to gorge myself on food, and I can't deny it anymore, I live in a sty. My mom wasn't kidding when she called me a pig! OK, I am only joking, but it doesn't mean that the previous statement wasn't true, because it was. I always tell myself I'm not the biggest slob in our house. I can clean when I want to - no really, I can! The problem is that I don't want to. I can't find things when I clean; it's called organized chaos. I know where everything is when it doesn't belong somewhere (does that make any sense at all?) and when it's put somewhere on purpose I probably wont find it until next year. But I'm getting ready to go to sleep, laying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, dozing off into my own little world. But what do I see? Layers and layers of dust all over the blades of my barely used ceiling fan. Don't we have maids to clean these things up? I guess not. I think somebody needs to do a little cleaning tomorrow. The sad thing is, the floors are even worse.
And I will never admit to this again, just so you know.
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