My room is the biggest bedroom. This means my daughter has an extra place for her junk. It has ugly carpet. My room gets dusty quicker than any other room in the house. And we live on a dirt road so that's saying a lot. My room is the hottest room in the house. Not quite sure why that is. When its 80 degrees outside, it is 95 degrees in my room. Likewise, in the fall, my room temperature drops so fast that my contacts freeze on my eyes. Well not really but it could possibly happen. It gets so cold that when it snows, all the snow on the roof melts except for a perfect square over my room. And that is the truth. My room has special "drafts" that I am convinced can only be the result of paranormal activity. My room has two small spitballs on the ceiling that my sister and I blew through straws 30+ years ago. I cannot bring myself to pry the spitballs off, I just keep painting over them to preserve them for future generations. My room does not have a door because my ex-boyfriend accidentally broke the doorknob while the door was closed and instead of taking the hinges off like any normal person would do, he broke the door down instead. What a dumbass. I cannot seem to muster the testicular fortitude its going to take to march down to Home Depot and get myself a new bedroom door. I figure it will happen one day. You can't rush these things.
But I love my room. When its not 100 degrees outside, I like to go in there and turn the fan on and dive under the blankets and read and draw. I like to go in my room and throw temper tantrums and think about things. It is my refuge from the world. The End.