Dear Room in Every New Home that is the Last to be Unpacked,
You are usually an office. Or a guest room. You house stacks of book books, extra shelves, candles, picture frames, clocks, pens/pencils, files, and small pieces of furniture. There is never anything anyone needs on a day-to-day basis that resides within you. Sometimes they wonder where something is, and then they remember you have it. And you’re such a mess they don’t even want to walk in, so they just leave it there. With everything else.
Slowly, small objects that are unpacked and can’t find their place within the new home, migrate to you.
“Where should I put this vase?”
“Eh, stick it in the office.”
As the other parts of the house are cleaned and tidied on a daily basis, you…you’re neglected. You’re avoided. Because you’re just a bigger and bigger mess. And no one cares about the dead leaves that blew in and landed on your floor. You’re gross.
I mean, what are you? Huh? Are you an office? Or are you a reading room? Or a den? Nobody even knows. WHY DO YOU EXIST except to provide a home to a bunch of homeless crap? You’re a homeless home.
You make us all look bad.