A Study in Contrasts–The Differences between me and my brother

Today, while I was laying in bed and reading, I glanced over at my desk to check on the kitten, and the room I share with Jake happened to so small that I saw Jake’s desk as well. And a sentence popped in my head: “A Study in Contrasts–The Differences Between me and my Brother”. And this blog post was doubtedly born. 
So here it is, the contrasts–displayed in how we keep our desks.
Although Jake’s desk is considerably cleaner, mine has a kitten on it, and her cage, my books, a water bottle, part of a fan, a sewing box which had been dubbed my “Box of Memoirs”, a pincushion, a book about a Hitler Youth, a broken glass bird, and a shirt :P. 
His has a few notebooks, clothes, a G2-10 Pen, a round… thing… that looks like it’s for clobbering people on the head with. Oh, yes, and speakers for Kindles and such.
The contrasts are easy to spot, but if they aren’t, I will tell them to y’all. 
Jake prefers the clean.
I prefer the dirty.
And that also happens to be our Number One argument about our room–He thinks it’s hopelessly dirty, and I, well, I call it “clean” at that stage. The fact of the matter is that I feel more comfortable in a dirty room. When everything is clean, it doesn’t feel right–it feels cold, and feeling-less, if you get my meaning.
However, Jake is just about the opposite. Clean rooms are exquisite to him. Home. Dirty ones are disrupting, horrible, dungeon-like. 
There are so many more contrasts I could explore, but I really don’t have the time tonight. 🙂
If you took the the time to read this blogpost, a Narnian handshake and a “Thank you” to you!
Also–what about you? Do you prefer the clean of a room? Or the dirty?

3 thoughts on “A Study in Contrasts–The Differences between me and my brother”

  1. I prefer my room to be somewhere between the two. Clean enough that I know where things are and can actually use my desk when I need it, messy enough that it feels lived in.


  2. Sort of in the middle.
    I don't like utter chaos in a room, but I hate when _everything_ is in perfect order – it's a bedroom, not a museum. I don't like clutter, though. More like organized disarray, of sorts. For example, my bookshelf is a display case of random small things (like my deodorant, but that's a bad example). My desk has a lot of things on it, but they're there for a reason, even if they're not organized.
    The edges of my ceiling aren't painted, and neither is one wall – instead, it has dozens of vibrant pictures of places around the world (cut out from a calendar and a few magazines).


  3. My sister and I are the same – I am obsessively tidy, while she is incredibly messy. I find comfort in having everything in it's place, and knowing where it is. My books are in genre or alphabetic order, depending on which bookcase they are on. Like I said -obsessively tidy!
    Thank heavens we don't share a room anymore!


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