Survival of the fittest. Not me for sure.

Today, I found out and deduced that I’m not cut out to be domesticated. My room resembles something that has been hit by a tornado. Twice.

My parents have been on my case for the longest time and since I myself think the mess is getting out of hand, I decided to do something about it since I have a one week break before I start my new job.

So there I was, full of gusto and attacked the area of my bookshelf first. Fast forward two hours later, I’m sweating like a horse, panting from vacuuming, bra almost completely soaked. And I’m tired and called it a day hahahaha.

All that’s done is that. Threw away about six bags of rubbish and four pairs of shoes. Decided to go for a cold shower and I’m now lying on my bed nursing jelly legs.

The last time I “exercised” so much was probably a few years ago when I took part in a 5km run.

The thought of packing the rest of my room greatly depresses me. My progress is so negligible I want to cry. And my parents said they will only fix the air conditioner in my room when my room is completely packed.

That’s it. I’m resigned to live in the Sahara forever. And I’m so unfit I’ll definitely be the first to be eaten by lions if there’s any around.

xoxoxoxo.

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