Last night, I decided to watch a DVD in bed. All well and good, but I couldn’t find the remote control, and without it, this new fandangled flat-screen TV/DVD player affair won’t even switch on. The remote is normally on my bedside table (a precise arm’s length away from where I normally lie) but last night it wasn’t there. Now, I remembered falling asleep (or passing out drunk – one of the two) after watching Splinter the other evening, which meant that the remote could have ended out anywhere.
A cursory glance around my room proved unfruitful, but luckily my evening was not disrupted for too long since I have the same model TV downstairs, and the remote from that works equally well.
The side effect however was that I actually took a closer look at my bedroom for the first time in a while. It wasn’t pretty.
Now, I do not overly value tidiness as a virtue, and there is part of me that finds my 36-year-old self vastly amusing. I have the attention span of a toddler who has been fed blue Smarties and fizzy pop, and if I put something down for moment, wherever it is becomes where it lives. This goes on for weeks on end, until something forces me to notice how disorganised everything is.
I do need to be clear that the massive pile of clothes are all clean; I managed to lose a bra the other day, and figured it was folded somewhere in the middle of a pile of washing that I had put straight in my wardrobe. I ended out taking all of the clean folded clothes and dumping them on the bed to work my way through…they then went on the floor when it was time to sleep…then back on the bed when it was time to get up…and so on for a few days.
In general, my room isn’t dirty per sé – you don’t need inoculations or a tetanus shot to go in there – but it does pose a Health & Safety risk a lot of the time.
For the sheer amusement of it, I showed the picture to a few of my work colleagues today and immediately provoked the inner parent in them. One woman actually threatened to come round my house and tidy it up if I didn’t do it myself. As it happens, I was quite keen to find my remote, so tidy I did.
For the sake of entertainment and curiosity, I decided to share some of the things I found in my bedroom.
For those of you that need closure;
1) The remote control was in a bag of knitting at the end of my bed. Yes, that’s right.
2) The bra was in my underwear drawer, but I’d folded the cups inside out so it looked a different colour.
3) The mousetrap was from when my now-deceased cat brought a mouse home…and I found it in one of my boots…when I put my foot on it. I bought the mousetrap to try and humanely capture and release the poor thing, but eventually found it dead under my wardrobe two days later.