My wardrobe and I

I REALLY need to arrange my wardrobe.Seriously,it looks like a high voltage cloth bomb on devil's wings had exploded in there and I can't seem to separate my jeans from my tops and my tops from my bottoms.Really,everything's just tangled up and well,you can't really figure out a leg from a sleeve so to speak.It's like a mass grave in there,where cloths go to die.

I've always had a well organized wardrobe,but since of late,everything has gone awry what with the endless assignments,worries and complaints about the lack of lecturers( or the fact that the whole bloody system is being so bloody inefficient,hard-hearted and cruel),general fears about our poor four year degree going down the drain( talk about time,energy and blood being wasted in the most idiotic way possible) and all the rest of it.My wardrobe and I share a special bond.I need to have my wardrobe well organized in order to feel at peace,to feel like everything's as it should be,in it's element.So,do I even need to state that everything just looks so fucked up right now?

Well,my usual mug of afternoon tea seems to be calming me down for the moment(I just adore my new mug although Father Dearest always makes snide remarks about it saying that it looks like a barrel) Organizing the wardrobe would take up the whole evening (what with ear splitting music blaring out of the radio,me waltzing around the room in a frenzy and Mother Dearest complaining of sound pollution) but then,the peace that follows afterwards is worth much more than money or gold.I'm used to having things all hung up nicely on cloth hangers to avoid wrinkling( Cz I am never a one for ironing) I would wear something and go out even if it is unwearably crumpled and shabby looking(and Mother Dearest would go pale in the face as a ghost who just fell in to a giant powder compartment and fire out a whole channel of protests about decency and me looking like a servant girl and the sort and me being me,choose to dodge the bullets,completely ignore her and continue along my path) but never touch an iron for the love of life(or the love of some peace and quiet).It's just way too much complexity for my simple life,the ironing of cloths I mean.

I'm afraid that my mother will disown me one of these days.Oh well...........

Yeah well,now you know.Lady Grouchalot is gonna be cleaning out her closet tonight to the beat of some groovy tune or the other ( usually whatever that is playing on the radio at that time which I notice are always catchy as hell beats that I find myself dancing and singing along to) .Time to switch on the music and let it rip!! \m/