It's that time of year. The time when I say I'm going to clean up my room, but actually just make something I call "neat messes." This oxymoron means that I take the things that are strewn about, and I pile like items together, effectively making neater looking piles of junk. Too many papers on the floor? Now look at this neat pile of them, still on the floor. Are my socks not put away? Of course they aren't, but they are piled in front of my dresser as if they are waiting for me too open the drawer so that they can jump right in. That sort of thing. It fools my parents into thinking that I've cleaned up my room, but more importantly, it fools me into thinking that I have cleaned up my room. It's a win-win.

The next logical step would be to clean out the crap that is under my bed. But nobody's been under there since I dropped the remote and now have to physically walk over to the TV and turn it on like it's 1960. It's also very dusty. I can't go down there right now. So that just leaves my closet. But cleaning out my closet is an almost impossible endeavor (Eminem makes it sound so easy), akin to finding a job. I can't do it all by myself. I don't want to be, all by myself, anymore (weekly Celine Dion reference: check!).

Then it's settled. I'm going to start a cleaning service. It's called People Say I'm Tidy. You can call 1-800-SAY-TIDY for more information. Have a good week!