OMGWTF ROOM.

So. My parents are away on a roadtrip that I opted out of, leaving me in charge of the house (and the NINE ANIMALS ♥). I wanted to sleep in this morning, but I guess my sense of responsibility and my internal clock conspired to wake me up at 5:45 or some shit. XD I tried to go back to sleep. Really. But then I was unable to get to sleep, and I figured "well, Buffy really should get her fluconazole about now..."

And then I thought "Well, since Whitney should be coming over later this week, I really should make my room not a disgrace..."

So after getting breakfast, medicating the dog, and feeding the cats, I set to work on my room at about 6:15 or so.

I finished at noon-thirty.

Still wiped out, but it was worth it. There's a certain point when you start doing hard work where it starts feeling pretty good to be working, so as tiring as it was, I'm pretty satisfied.

My room is by no means tidy, there's still junk under the bed and the papasan chair and in the crevices and stuff, and there's a monster pile of books in front of my closet because I literally couldn't cram any more onto the shelves. (Note to self: take old books to Bookman's, sell manga on eBay.)

But my room has a FLOOR and you can WALK ON IT. And my papasan chair is, for the first time in ages, not being used as a giant basket. You can sit in it now. :D And I eliminated four trash bags' worth of assorted crap, so that was good.

I had plenty of "oh, so that's where that went!"/"hey, look what I found!" room-cleaning moments, of course. Mostly generic stuff, but there were three things that truly baffle me.

- A plastic Duncan Hines container, with some inexplicable white powder about half an inch deep in the bottom. I do not know what this is or why it's in my room.

- A chunk of white Sculpey, carefully encased in aluminum foil. No, I don't know either.

- Five umbrellas. Okay. I know that I keep losing and needing to replace umbrellas. But. Five?!

wtf.

So. I've been up and working and DOING STUFF since 6 AM. At 11:04 PM, I'm so tired I can barely spell my own name. Yet I'm still working on a Photoshop piece I started earlier this evening.

Let me reiterate: so tired I can barely spell my own name. Alissa Alysa Alyslksskjp See? XD

And yet I'm doing a whole bunch of manual texture work, small fiddly details on hair and polished metal and cloth and skin. I'm putting more effort into this than I usually put into art when I'm fully charged, so to speak. Furthermore, there's a pattern of this kind of thing, and not even just with art.

Please explain.