Attack of the Organizer

My mother has this talent of magically multiplying one project into one hundred projects.

I wanted to move my two desks to the other side of my bedroom, thinking it might open up more space and help me study better (for a mid-term exam in English tommorrow). Mom agreed to help me.

First we had to clear all the junk off the desks. Then Mom had the idea of relocating some of my books to a closet shelf... well, that required moving a heavy box and my luggage set.

"No, that won't work after all. Let's move the books to the chest of drawers. Move the box and luggage back where it was." Mom finds a plastic container in the corner of the closet with old t-shirts. "Let's move that to the shelf over here... oh, but your socks are there. Can we put them into another container?"

I dissuade her from further "messing up" my groove, "Look, we'll put the shirts into this box with the out of season clothes."

Mom moves to the desks again.

"No! Don't throw away my notebooks!"

"Carey, get the vaccum. When's the last time you vacuumed in here?"

"Uh... a while."

"Carey, take these dust ruffles off so we can wash them." She lifts up the dust ruffles to peer under my bed. "Oh my goodness, child!" I am doomed. She knows. Now we must take everything from beneath my bed and go through it.

"When is the last time you vacuumed under your bed?"

"Never." Who vaccuums under their bed??

Now for moving furniture. The iron bed must be moved two feet to the left. Oh dear. Now more vacuuming.

"Have you vacuumed around the baseboards? Ew, your windowsill is filthy! When was the last time..."

"Don't ask."

Needless to say, it took seven hours to move two pieces of furniture ten feet.