This is a true and unfinished story about an 18 year old woman-child. They say you can tell a lot about a woman by the contents of her purse. I usually don't carry a purse if I can help it, so we'll settle for the contents of my bedroom.

How very scary.

I am currently sitting on a pretty comfortable mattress, for it's age. Unfortunately, this mattress is resting on the noisiest bed frame in existence. Surrounding this creaky bed is an old bedside table that has been stained by the many cups of water I have brought to bed over the years, a lovely Baldwin piano that made it's way into the ever shrinking room a few months ago, three Rubbermaid style chests of drawers bursting open by way of clothing (the majority of which are vintage or second hand), scarves, handmade hats, ribbons and strips of unused tulle. The floor hardly sees the light of day. Shoes and spilled cat food are the current culprits. The mattress itself doubles as a clothing organizer/sleepy kitty holder/crochet project area during the daylight hours. The towel that I use after my every-other-day showers lives on one of the posts at the foot of the bed. Bits of hair rest on the floor in front of my full length mirror from where I last trimmed my bangs.

I wonder how other people will perceive me from the inhabitants of my room...

"This chick has a serious case of ADD."

"Ha. Typical teenager."

"Hoarder?"

"What an eclectic young lady!"

"Gross. Who doesn't take showers everyday?!"

Someday soon, it will get to me enough that I will REALLY clean it, as opposed to just moving the stuff on the floor to a higher surface...truth is, I would usually rather be passionately wandering and exploring this unsolvable puzzle they call life. :)