Cleaning Pays

My room has a pretty weird history. It has been my domain since I was in class VIII, before which it was my parents’. Now since I’d got possession of it, I’d pretty much done up the walls like any self-respecting teenager would, with lots and lots of posters, many of which were the fruits of my tinkering with Photoshop. My mother would say that the decor resembled that of a paan shop, while I would firmly shake my head and deny the rotten allegation, telling her that she needed to be more open-minded when it came to her walls.

One of my best friends who’d visited recently had remarked on the ‘compact’ nature of my room: how every thing tucked itself away when it wasn’t required. The sole reason for this is that I have a bunk bed (yes, laugh and call me a “child”, whatever!) that has a book-rack at its foot, a study table that can be pulled out of its head from one side, and a large number of drawers within itself, two of which also function as steps for a mini-ladder.

Being the extremely tidy person that I am, it isn’t a surprise that the contents of these two drawers hadn’t been er, “re-arranged” (I'm trying to be politically correct here!) in years. (I don’t let anyone but myself clean my room, not even my mother.) Now, I’d been on a bit of a cleaning spree of late, all in instalments of course, and the duration of which depended on my attention-span and level of laziness, and since I had nothing better to do today, I decided to clean up one of the drawers.

I am happy to announce that this endeavour of mine resulted in me becoming richer by a hundred bucks as well as the happy owner of a silver pendant-like-thingy. And no, the money wasn’t paid to me by my exasperated mother who fainted every time she used to see my room in the recent past, just so that I’d tidy up. I found it hidden beneath folds of old memories, most of which I threw away heartlessly, in an envelope... probably gifted by a benevolent relative ages ago. I remember the silver thing (for lack of a better word) being given to me by my favourite aunt, back when I refused to wear even ear-rings. That probably explains why it lay forgotten in that drawer for so long.

This is almost as good a thing as being pleasantly surprised by small amounts of money in my jeans pockets when I wear them after ages. And yeah, for the first time in my life I agree that cleaning pays!