For some reason, living in my parents' house has turned my messiness into some illogical way to claim my space. They want cleanliness, they impose their desires upon me in every other part of the house, so my own room turns into a complete disaster. I really mean complete.
This is the area by the door, also the changing area and garbage area.
This is the perpetually open closet (there's so much stuff coming out of there that the doors can't actually close, the broken-zippered storage thing where I keep all of our bedding and towels, and the huge pile of stuff on top of the dresser. There's an awesome hand-felted dragon up there, which is currently the protector of the disaster >.<
And this is next to my bed, where everything tends to fall or be thrown. And a little bit of the never-used crib. It's only really up to show off the awesome bumpers and quilt that my mother made. I'm actually perversely proud of the fact that it hasn't become a place to hang or dump things.
I've really gotten lax. Sure, River has a great play area, but our room is a disaster. There are things piled on every easily accessible surface, while those that take a little more work to get to are completely bare! And I KNOW River prefers cleanliness. She was the kid who insisted on throwing away the holiday wrappings before playing with her new toys!