As a teenager and even into my mid-20s my bedroom typically looked like a tornado had hit it. Shirts and pants lay in sad, crumpled heaps. Shoes and socks were separated from their matching counterparts, sometimes not to be reunited for months.My mother called me reckless, careless and a piggy. Sometimes she wouldn't let me socialize with friends until my room was clean. That was easy — all I did was shove everything under the bed or pile the heaps into the closet. Looking back [...]
↧