today i tweezed my eyebrows for the first time in weeks, but i did it in my bedroom, standing in front of my closet with the sliding mirror doors, so all of the little hairs probably landed scattered around my bedroom floor.
for some reaon, they seem so small and inconsequential that i imagine that they somehow vanish after being plucked and left to float away.
after i’m done, i look down and don’t see any mess so i don’t bother sweeping, even though i know that they could very easily be camoflauged against the dark planks of my bedroom floor.
out of sight, out of mind i guess.
i wasn’t raised doing chores so i find it difficult to clean up after myself – it’s something i have to put a really concentrated effort into. and it’s bad because i’m perfectly happy and comfortable living in all sorts of mess.
some people might find that gross, but i jut consider it low-maintenance, though i am trying to get better at keeping things clean.
besides, don’t people say that messines is a symptom of creativity? sometimes i feel trapped if things are too organized and sterile. i feel restricted, like i can’t touch or use anything at all. perfection often keeps things at a distance.
i like to think i’ve grown to love my whirlwind room, but i also know that i relish the feeling i get after cleaning my room for the first time in a while.
there’s something cozy in seeing it all done up and proper in the lamplight. maybe i’d sleep easier if i made my bed everyday.