I sleep at 6am, and I wake up at 2pm. My life is upside down. Literally. Physically.

Righhhhht.

It's not fun doing spring-cleaning. I have loads to pack, or arrange, or dispose, throw, or... whatever people wanna call it. Maybe I should tell my friends that I'm doing spring-disposing. It's that time of the year, where people throw away old stuffs to make room for new stuffs.

Ho-kay. For me, I shall start by throwing away old stuffs to make room for my existing stuffs first.

I wonder if I am going insane. I keep running through these thoughts in my head, about how I'm gonna dispose all those useless stuffs lying around at home, when my Mum's sleeping, or when she's out.

I imagine those stacks of books, piles of CDs, mountains of pens, sets or Hi-Fis, etc.. all coming together at night. And if they could talk, you know what they would say to each other?

Random novel: "My spine had stopped exercising 5 years ago. I need someone to flip through my pages and give me a breather. The silverfishes had just started their 6th generation on page 120!"

Ball-point pen: "At least you're still useful. My ink's all dried up. My ball's stopped rolling. I'm just like an old man, suffering from rheumatism from stiff joints."

Fountain pen, shaking frantically: "Brrr... I br-cant... br..."

Random magazine: "What's she saying? Gosh my pages are sticking to each other..."

Ball-point pen: "She's saying that she tip malfunctioned some time back, and that her tip is drowned by her own period, contained in her cap!"

Fountain pen shrieks: "BRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrfsej gbjks jknsga jsksg adjk!"

Ball-point pen: "She wants us to know she can't talk, only because her lips are gagged with ink! If her cap should ever be seperated from her, she'll be surging out a massive torrent of dull black ink!"

Every THING starts to turn chaotic.

Blah blah blah... Hey, they are just trying to do a prison break.

Ok stop. No I'm not crazy...

Righhhhhtttt........