Cleaning

It is December break, a week and a half until January ninth. And I cleaned my room.
One thing anyone who knows me even remotely should be aware of is that I am, by nature, not an organized person. So cleaning my room is something that comes up every month or so in good times and every day in bad times, with the ending sentence in the conversation being, "We'll do it when we have more time." Obviously, we never get around to it.
Today, of course, I had to do it, because of packing and such coming up. So it was an interesting eight hours, more or less. I came up with an overflowing box of schoolwork and general papers for the attic, which was an achievement for me. And I managed to toss some things, which doesn't happen often.
I would like to say that it feels good, but it just feels...normal. Just normal. I suppose I feel a bit of a sense of accomplishment, so that's something. But spending eight hours on one activity always results in a sense of accomplishment or at least a sense of thank-god-that's-over. Which is part of what I'm feeling. But it doesn't feel particularly amazing. Except for the fact that no one is nagging me. That does feel amazing. And now I can do whatever I want, as long as I don't mess up the house. It feels awesome.