I cleaned my bedroom last night, quite a bit. I had an el cheapo mdf bookcase which was held upright by a springclamp to the other case, and it was just dandy, until several months ago I got into an internet fight with some guy who thought LSD was less toxic than H2O. I pulled out my Merck Index and the leaning tower of pharmacology went BONK, big time. Smooshed all my swordfighting books and Heavy Metals, too. It sat that way for over half a year, from the time it left me cringing in my drawers underneath it until last night, when I excavated it, layer by layer and re-clamped it. I'll toss the guts later I guess. Also I found something like 5 bucks in loose change and half a dozen highlighters in the mass of junk where I throw my pants before bed.

I forgot how clean-sheets it feels to bring things into congruency. I wrangled my rolling toolchest back into the laundry room, and put my mood lamps back into position. This comes on the heels of learning my mother already went on her little trip and therefore probably won't come by here anyway. I had to force myself to get cleaning after that; my druthers and already begun to leave me and if I hadn't acted fast, it'd be another half-year before I got things dealt with in there.