My room is messy again. But I've been thinking about it, and I realized that it is only because of my selflessness that I let it get this way! Yes, it's true. See, during the day I spend very little time in my room, so I don't clean it. However, after I go to "bed" I stay awake in there for hours: the perfect time to clean, right? Wrong! The only messy thing about my room really are the clothes. They are strewn across the floor in a brilliant explosion of color and texture that could give any modern artist a run for their money. It also is very uncomplimentary to the room itself. "Why," you may ask "don't you just put the clothes away?" To which I may answer (as my halo slowly comes into focus): "My dear little sister."
Every night as I come to my room I have grand ideas of reforming my ways and keeping my room perfectly spotless. (My sister's room is always in amazing order and, since our rooms are next door, the juxtaposition is constant and humbling.) To get to my room I have to walk through her room (wherein lies my dresser), which involves turning on the light.
She is always already asleep, due to the fact that she goes to bed unhealthily early. So, anyway, I turn on the light, still determined to clean. Then, as I'm walking by, she stirs and "looks" around in a very confused manner. She scrunches up her entire face and kind of thrashes around in slow motion. It is so pathetic and sad that I can't wait to turn off her light again as soon as I arrive at my destination.
In conclusion, my room is messy because my dresser is in my sister's room, and to clean up I have to turn on her light. And I love her too much to deprive her of even a fraction of her ample supply of rest. How can anyone blame me?