Over the morning of Memorial Day, Ndoro Yadda and I decided to clean up our room. The whole thing had fallen into a resemblance of a two-pig pen rather than a room shared by a 25 year old and her younger sister. Once the beds were not being made up, there was nothing pleasant about it, save for the nice window treatment and the retouched drawers and bookcase .

The blinds, the window sills, and the windows were one of the first things to clean. Next was the under-the-bed area. Several things reclaimed--all gathered up pestilential amount of dust: unfinished bed-time readings, forgotten and doomed to be shoved under, food wraps, mostly candies, scratch paper, unused paper, pens and pencils, a mug, ponytail bands, broken pair of slippers, and missing jewelries. Next steps were dusting off the trumperies, the lamps and all of the electronics, sorting last semester's text books and old stuff, re-organizing the closet, vacuuming the carpet, and installing clean beddings.

There were two plastic bags full of clothing material to donate and at least three bags full of garbage. End results: a clingy clean room and a walkable closet.