This week, I came back from a long, grovelling, backbreaking (you get the idea) day at school to find that my room had been ever so slightly... re-arranged. It wasn't the fact that my bed and chest of drawers were on opposite sides of the room: the issue lay much deeper than that.
Now, normally, my room is not like the average teenagers. The floor is nearly always visible, and I actually prefer to store my clothes in my wardrobe and not on the back of my chair; but the one thing that always somehow looks like a nuclear waste site, is my desk.
The way I see it, the fact that I have a constant mountain of papers and notebooks on my desk is a good thing. It shows I make a lot of notes at school and generally have such a good work ethic that I like to look over them continuously, which explains why they are spread all over my desktop.
Well, this would be a good excuse, if only it was true.
My mum, however, doesn't see it that way. "I don't know how on earth you are planning to revise over Easter when there is not even enough room for a microbe on your desk!", she would constantly remind me, or something along those lines. I am prone to exaggeration, I must warn you.
Anyway, back to the point, my desk was obviously some sort of 'pet hate' of my mother's. So one day, whilst I was packed away off to school, the time had come for her to strike. I regret now that I wasn't present that sad, sad day when all of my carefully organized belongings were strewn manically across the room to try and make space for school work and folders, which obviously were 'more important'. My desk must have been quite distressed, and I will apologise on behalf of my mum. She only meant well.
I suppose you could say that I 'overreacted' somewhat, when I arrived home.
"MUUUM! WHAT ARE MY NOTEBOOKS DOING ON MY BOOKCASE?!"
"I thought I would make space for all of the revision you will be sorting out over Easter."
"MUUUM! WHAT ARE MY RUBBERS THAT THE DOG CHEWED DOING IN THE BIN?!"
Well, you get the picture. After a while, I did sort of realise that... it made sense. I mean, it was a lot easier to concentrate without my notebooks staring right at me, luring me in to write in them while I struggled to do my biology homework, and for once I could have my exercise book AND my text book on my desk at the same time while I tried to write an essay.
The next day, when all anger had evaporated, I found myself slowly getting used to the new desk. I had never believed what people had said about tidy things leading to tidy minds, but now I understand what they mean. It did help me become more organized, and I even put together a big fat revision folder to keep mum happy.
So I implore you, dear readers, if you haven't already been inspired to clear all the junk off your desk, do so now. It has been very uplifting. But please, whatever you do, don't shout at your mothers. It isn't their fault.