Excellent tenant

Psst. This is my 400th blog post.

The state of my room + My mum = Homicide case

My room was driving me nuts. How did it end up being so messed up?

Let's see, a few day or procrastination, a few clothes yet to be ironed, a few pieces of fresh laundry yet to be folded, a few letters rotting on the desk, a few sets of wires from who-knows-where, a few used Metcards, a few too many hair clips and a few specks of dust *poof*

The moral of this story is: Never wait until the last minute when bad becomes worse.

Actually the moral of the story hit me only when our real estate agent suddenly requested for an inspection (a prospective buyer wanted to view the house) and I had no choice but to say yes and publicise my messy room to a group of strangers. Luckily the strangers they don't know whose room is which!

'. . . currently tenanted by excellent tenants. . . ' read the big marketing billboard outside my house. Gosh, talk about living up to sky-high expectations.

Last night, Miss Lo cleaned and tidied up her whole room. It is now all neat and comfy. I feel happy and satisfied after that.

Excellent tenant. Talk about pressure to perform. Having those words printed in front of my house is like having dear Mum right here with her Hawk's Eye.