I am neat and tidy through a calibrated balance of OCD and laziness.
I keep glowing green atomic robo-fish in my bedroom.
My most frequent mind racking inner conflict is about whether I want to fill my bedroom walls bursting with nick-nacks and shiny objects like an old curiosity shop that's a front for a secret magical artifact retrival group of scoobies, or if I want to sell off nearly all my stuff and go full-on traveling cartoonist bohemian.
You can call me a sucker for anything that glorifies the silliness in sexuality, like geeky neo-burlesque or webcomics like Oglaf.
To fall asleep easier at night, I imagine my house is some fortified temporary shelter or armored mobile home in a zombie apocalypse.
I kill shoes frequently with my walkingness.