I wish dust didn't exist. I forget that it exists sometimes, until a few months later I look over on my bookshelves and my desk and see too much dust. And then I think of places I can't even SEE that have dust on it, like on top of canvas' on the wall, on top of my taller bookshelf, and more. Sigh.
Upon cleaning my room right now, I have discovered TEN books I haven't read yet! I bought them and stuck them on the shelf or accidently left them in the bags on the floor. I try not to buy more new books before I've read the ones I have, but oops, I do. I also buy them on my kindle. But, now I have new books to read! That aren't new, but are new.
I hate cleaning my room, and think, "I have too much stuff." I jokingly think of the hashtag #firstworldproblems but it's so true. To anyone in Kenya, they have little to nothing. Their toys consist of trash and nature, like rocks. And here I am, frustrated to clean my crazy messy room and dust. And their dust is from the dirt that blows around outside, brown dust that gets on your hands and in your nose and covers your arms so that when you shower, brown just pours off you. Reality check. I have nothing to complain about.
Sometimes when I come across people at Starbucks who are entitled and get mad at stupid stuff, I want to say, "Look here, you need to go to Africa, and then you'll stop complaining about this stuff." A guy got mad yesterday because I gave him back two $5's instead of a $10 because there wasn't a $10 in my drawer. Another girl was mad because our Christmas CD's aren't on sale even though it's after Christmas, and wouldn't stop ranting about it. Like, shut up.
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