Is that a jar of pickles?
As the jar of pickles lay
On the cold and grey floor on this mornin’
A picture of a dirty room is taken
In the ghetto
I live alone and can get away with a fair bit of untidiness. My room is a landfill of clothes (clean ones. I have a laundry bag for the stuff that needs washing) since I don’t have a dresser. But the living room and kitchen are tidy… and those aren’t just clothes. There’s… jars of things. And dirty plates. It’s actually kind of making my skin crawl.
I wouldn’t call my living room and kitchen “tidy,” but even the day before a major cleaning I would only be mildly embarrassed to let someone in, and you can set things on surfaces without excavation. The dirty plates randomly tossed about are squicking me, too. Fine, leave them on the counter/in the sink, BUT WHY ARE THEY ON THE FLOOR???
“Squalid female, 3 months pregnant seeking partner/true love for adventures such as collecting pickles, squatting, long walks on the beach and living life to the filthiest. Must have own Rubbermaid tub.”
It’s bad when a hoarder comes in the room and says, “God damn, you need to straighten up in here a bit.”
Junk in the Trunk…and living room, bathroom, and kitchen. Suiters, you’ve been warned.
This is obviously a dude. I don’t even need to look at the adam’s apple.
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