My cousin is visiting and spending some time with me. When she called to tell me that she was coming, I agreed reluctantly, because I did not want to be the Wizard of Oz. What is funny and weird is that, unlike I would have done in the past, I did not go about clearing ‘evidence’ from my house. I do know that if she looks around closely, she’ll probably find a tube of astroglide (which is way better than KY Jelly, by the way) lying around somewhere, and maybe some condoms too. I just did not care and quite frankly, I felt if she found anything and gave me any stress, I’d kick her out. No time.
Now, I am no Bree Van De Kamp, as my bedroom is usually a chaotic mess. However, I thrive in the chaos, and as disorganized as my room often appears to be, I know where everything is. My sweet cousin however thought it wise to clean up my room, and when I got back from work, I practically had a panic attack when I saw the room. All my post-its which I stuck around the room to remind me of stuff to do were all arranged in one part of the room; my notes from Business School were neatly arranged, even though I had scattered and separated them according to modules; my books were stacked neatly, as opposed to the them lying scattered on my desk in the manner I preferred while reading concurrently from them. I totally freaked out and lashed out on her verbally, which I regret in hindsight, as she was only trying to help. This further reminds me why I cannot share my space with someone for life. Continue reading