Basically, right now, I really need a textbook.
Really, really need a textbook.
I theoretically own it already.
It is somewhere in my room.
...The problem is.
...It is somewhere in my room!
The thing about my room is that however messy you think your room is mine is guaranteed ten times worse. Like. There's rotten food. Rotten candy. Laundry, clean, dusty, dirty. Sheets. Blankets. Sleeping bags. Crumbs. Cobwebs. Dust everywhere. Cobwebs everywhere. A solid layer of soot covering most things. Human hair. A solid pile of nail filings. Literally thousands upon thousands of papers of all shapes and sizes--some in binders, but most loose.
Old toys, some broken, some breaking, some falling apart, some which were mashed together, some which actually function in the way they were meant to. Bins, filled to the brim with stuff. My bed is 9/10ths stuff (and it's one of the biggest bed sizes available, mind you), leaving me a mere fraction to sleep on...and said fraction has the springs puncturing through now, having torn to shreds my favorite sheets and my favorite blanket.
Bins stacked under my bed. Bins on my bed. Bins all around the room, filled with stuff. And then there's the closet, the various drawers (some open, some broken), the various bookshelves...there used to be a clear path on the ground; it is not so clear anymore. Section by section has been claimed by stuff.
And this battlefield is what I need to search through in order to find that book.
If I took pictures, they would not do it justice. This is something you really just have to have the horror to live through in person to understand. Attempts to organize my stuff have been made. Attempts to categorize it have been made. Attempts to clean up have been made--but they all fell apart, some making it even worse than before.
I have a vague idea of where the me of before would store books like this...but I haven't had luck yet.
I need to get sleep, but I need those books, because if I don't get that book I'm going to fail and that would not be fun.