I am, unfortunately, not a tidy person.
Don’t get me wrong—I love a good clean room, but if it was up to me, entropy would win every time. I kinda figure, “What’s the point of cleaning if it’s just going to get messy again?” That’s probably what led to me never using my cups at college, although I gotta admit, drinking milk straight out of the jug is just plain fun, too.
There is one exception to the “God created entropy, so it must mean He wants it to be messy” philosophy (and yes, I did pull that argument on my mom once. No, you don’t get to know how THAT one ended). That would be my dad’s philosophy; it can be summed up in one word. Delegation. Unfortunately, this seems to be a one-person-only argument, meaning that it only works for Dad. I kinda found that out tonight while cleaning up after dinner. When he told me to “Get a towel, Will. I need a dryer over here,” I grabbed one off the rack and threw it at my brother Nemesis, who promptly hurled it straight back at me. For about a minute, we had a hard-core towel war before my dad turned around and yelled, “What on Earth are you doing??” I turned around, getting hit by the towel in the process, and replied with a completely straight face, “DELEGATION!!!!” I ended up drying dishes anyway.
Currently, I’m hanging out in the room I share with Nemesis. It looks like a tornado hit it. Twice. Maybe I should stop practicing my swordplay in here. On the other hand, it might also be Nemesis’s fault—I’m pretty sure some of his socks mutated into sentient life forms. They hide under the bed and feed on his other, less dirty, socks that he’s currently working on. That kid has gotta wash the life right out of those things. It’s a little scary. The thought has occurred to me to possibly try to tame them, too. Maybe I could sell them...anyone interested in a living sock? Or maybe I could use them to help me take over the world?
HEY, how did my master plans for world domination end up in the middle of the floor? UNDER THE BED WITH THE SOCKS!!!!!!!!!!!!