My room

My home has always been messy. Like, really, REALLY messy. And my room was no exception until I was meant to be revising for my A-levels. I had all that spare time and I didn't want to work, so I tidied my room. I made it beautiful, a haven from the chaos that is the world. I made it clean. The vacuum cleaner stayed in my room for months because I used it the most. I cleaned the window sill, the light switch, everything and I couldn't have been prouder of the result. My room's gorgeous; large, with a huge south-facing window. That was brilliant. My little brother and sister would hang out in my room, I'd have a beanbag and an inflatable chair out for them and some music playing.

Within the first four months of me temporarily living away from home, my parents decided to redecorate. Not as a nice surprise for me or anything, they were moving in. They pulled all my furniture into the middle of the room and pulled the wallpaper down. This was presumably stage one in some grand master plan that never happened.

So, I spent Christmas that year in the disaster area-slash-building site, unable to put my stuff away because everything was in the middle of the room.
Then I spent the summer holidays there.
Now this Christmas, nothing more has been done. And since nobody ever goes in there, it's dusty like you can't believe, so for the past few nights, instead of falling asleep peacefully, I've sneezed myself into a state of abject exhausted misery before finally getting some rest.

Sorry this has been such a whiny post. Yes, I do resent the fact that I don't have a sanctuary any more, but the truth is I had no right to expect my parents to keep it nice for me. As they keep reminding me, I can do what I want when I have my own home. Assuming that ever happens.

So, I'll just go and moan in the corner by myself, shall I? Splendid.