Elbow Room

I change my bedsheets too often. And spend more time to clean my room than I spend inhabiting it. Yet its never clean enough to my taste. Not just neat as in things in their proper place, but as appealing to my compulsive aesthetic sense as I'd like. I do dislike the discipline of a room that's been drawn out with a ruler, with things at perpendicular angles on the desk, the furniture in too fixed an alignment to everything else, but I can not do away with smoothening out the rough edges, like when the clock on the wall has slid out of its original position or the wires of the speakers are tangled and sorely in view or the books on my racks are jumbled. So, uncompromising and unrelenting,I find myself improvising a messiness tailor-made to my sensibilities.

The endless quest clears my mind as much as it frustrates it. Life is no different.