Well, like any other normal teenager (I am not one since the last eighteen days) I dislike cleaning my room, tidying my desk, washing my clothes or any other chore that cleans and tidies the mess of my room. Why do I not like it? Maybe it is the inherent want to stay in a messy place, which is so cozy and looks almost identical to the Lizzie McGuire room in the movie. The disorganised stuff on my table is like my identity. All organised tables are alike- stacked books, newspapers, and little tit-bits in one box, etc. Every messy table is different in its own way. And what better way to tell my hostel mates to stay off from my stuff than to not let them know where I have kept a particular thing? A kleptomaniac won’t be able to figure out where my watch is, or where my facewash is. Also, when I am running late for college very day, with a quick sniff, I can see the moisturiser bottle and a clutcher in one grasp. I don’t need to go through a stack of books to get my register. it would be there right on the desk, with the photoframe, cosmetics, laptop and notepad. What do I do when I realise I need to get the mess straight? And when is that? When I can’t find a really pretty keychain I bought and I know I have to clean the room-I turn everything up and down till I find it, and it leaves the place all the more messier. And when I see that the unorganised room is somehow inducing it’s affect on me by making me a lazy bone, I get up and in a quick one hour session, try to clean up the mess, and that one day is all about cleaning and stuff. After that I feel great about the kayapalat of my room and go my old way of lazying around for a while, till one such day knocks again on my door whose tops are covered with spider webs!