Messy me!

This is about one of the dire habits I have. All through my schooldays, I used to mess up my table SO much that I could never find anything in the morning before leaving for school. Every weekend I used to resolve to arrange my books neatly on my table AND maintain it that way thereafter, but often I hardly ended up fulfilling even the first resolution. Well, that illustrates my tenacity! However, at least once a month, my mother used to insist on clearing the chaos on my study table. She used to compare my table with my brother’s (which mostly used to be and is still quite tidy) and somehow compel me to do that laborious task of painstakingly organizing my table, categorizing the incalculable loose papers and plunk the unwanted bits and pieces. Time and again, I could even find pencil shavings in my table draw or in the small plastic box which held my ink bottle, crayons, etc! I could never (and occasionally still can’t) settle on what was required and what wasn’t when it came to sorting out my papers. Ultimately, I used to file them together and deposit them in the bottom draw of my table- which by the end of a year, used to contain ALL kind of things-from the needlework we were made to do at school to some old toys and pens that can’t be used anymore!

Conceivably, the ONLY good that came out of this habit was a prize-winning anecdote! I think it was in my seventh standard- for our inter-house cultural competitions, we had to write a short story that started with something akin to “I woke up in the middle of the night to some murmuring in my room. I looked around, and found the furniture in my room talking…” Let me just say it wasn’t very hard for me to imagine how MY furniture would react to the way I “treat” them! ;)