I want to keep my bedroom neat but I have a hard time doing this as I prefer to spend my time other ways. I hate this though as I want to keep it clean for my mum as it would make her life easier if she didn’t have to help tidy my room for me.
Once upon a time, in a land of robotic police and android Government it was hard to find a neat place to stay. I came from an island in the middle of the Hamlock ocean on planet Juggernaut, in the Yunip system.
Being clean gets you closer to God. That’s what she’d been taught. Dirt was the pathway to sin, and hell, so she scrubbed her hands once again. Raw, red, and bleeding, she reasoned it was nothing compared to the wounds of Jesus, and turned on the faucet to wash her hands again.
If I were to think that the world were neat, it would be an oblivious existence. I’d like to think that I could ignore all of the obvious chaos in the world, if it weren’t so prominent. I guess I’d be a neat freak, because I’m obsessed with the chaos in the world.
If I were to think that the world were neat, it would be an oblivious existence. I’d like to think that I could ignore all of the obvious chaos in the world, if it weren’t so prominent. I guess I’d be a neat freak, because I’m obsessed with the chaos that the world has.
I am not a neat person, because I never fully grasp the need of being neatty. Being neat is something I should try, because certainlly would make my life much easier.
Neat. Isn’t it neat all the things we can do online? Relationships. Entertainment. Consume. All the neat things is the world in one place. We never have to leave our doorstep.
She walked into the bedroom and looked around. The mess in front of her would not do; there would be strangers in her house and she could not have them judging her tidiness. She started to organize the clothing and magazines all around the room until it was as neat and tidy as she wanted. When the investigators showed up to look at the crime scene and try to figure out the future murder, they would be in awe at how clean the room was.
I haven’t been in quite some time, the last I remember must have been when I was 10. But it’s hard to remember anything these days, you see, my brain isn’t as #neat as it was in my youth. @oneworddotcom @oznolem
neatness should be considered in every execution of work. A work of art has an underlying and obivious strength which is its neatness. An artist who takes care of this simple fact remains a
She was forced to be neat but never felt that kind of urge in her. Being neat was a forced quality. It seemed unnatural to her it seemed as if it was stopping the flow of her character of human nature.
She had a way about her, everything didn’t have to be perfectly neat but as long as she knew exactly where everything was then that is all that mattered. She wished he would understand that.
I wish I were neat. I’m the most disgustingly disorganized person I know. But it goes beyond that. I’m just fucking lazy really. I can’t get myself to pick things up, wash dishes or even clean the bathroom.
She placed everything in a neat little pile. In a matter of minutes she burst into tears. She couldn’t help but wonder what was happening to her life. What had happened to her family.
Nothing was ever neat, and he hated it. Paper lazing about by bins, pen stains on the desks, broken blinds that didn’t let the sun shine through. It was prison. Squalid.
He couldn’t stand how neat she always was, her books colour coded and her pens all in line like soldiers on her desk. She never had a hair out of place, and it was infuriating. How could she be so perfect?
It was a mess. Everything was a mess. She had to make it neat. Neat and tidy. So she gave it to her boss. Because her boss liked neat. Her boss was good at neat. And so it became…neat.
my mom always tell me to keep my books tidy on the table. but i cant. maybe it is my imagination flowing, maybe it is my little struggle against a fixed, orderly world; either way, my table is staying the way it is right now.
A tidy space is a valued space. She knew this, and she clung to it. In these times, this was important information to remember. Clutter would be the death of them all.
The neat handwriting was astounding. I always thought he would have bad handwriting. But everything he did was neat, his clothes, his hair even the whiskey he drank was neat. It was annoying as hell. It was hard to find anything to nitpick.
you could have folded me up and left me in the corner for ages the way things were going. i was convinced it was because you were trying to keep me safe. that’s what you said, anyways, right? that it was how you treated friends. but i found out soon enough you were just keeping me for when you felt like bringing me out. and i’m not your favorite t-shirt. i won’t wait around for you anymore.
its about a decision. be everywhere well organised or in the terrible mess. its helping you to take everything more easy and handy. that´s the way how to save a lot of time if you have your stuff in pretty neat order
“You build rockets? Neat!” squealed Tiffany, jumping up and down on the balls of her feet. “How do you do it?”
I smiled and took the time to explain the various types of rockets I made. Some were as simple as hollowed out soda cans and some carbonation. Others, of course, were more tinkered and detailed. Of course, I expected her to want to learn how to make rockets immediately, so I excused us both from the dinner table so we could slip into my workshop.
Maybe I thought I would grow up enough that one day things would fit in tidy ways that made good sense.
I was either wrong, or I have not grown up enough. @mosthopeful
I’m not a neat person. Everything in my life is messy. My life, my closet, and of course my hair. I wish I knew how to make everything neat. I would be able to keep things in order and maybe that would make me happier. Maybe neat hair is overrated though, but maybe i’ll never know.
“Isn’t that NEAT?” the teacher said as she walked away.
The child sat there….not quite sure how to understand what was said.
Was it a comment on her cursive writing? Maybe it did have style. Was the teacher genuinely interested in what she had to say? Did she discover a different way to look at the topic…that her teacher had never seen before? Perhaps by the time the teacher had gotten to her desk…she was running out of interesting adjectives to describe student work.
“I guess I’ll never know,” she muttered as she put away her notebook yet again and sighed.
She had a disorganized brain.
For hours on end she would work. Hair in her face, head bent over her task.
Then she would look
out the window
a bird caught her attention
Or a passerby
She decided it wasn’t worth her time
to be neat and proper – diving face first into each day
with scraped knees and tangled hair;
life was too short to play by the rules.
It was more than just learning how to tackle each new task
it was the opportunity to learn more from the learning itself.
And with her gone, he finally found the words he had wanted to say to her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I always left you. I’m sorry you were afraid. I thought you were better off without me. I did not try hard enough.”
And in that neat package of words was his whole life, showing itself to be worthless. He hoped only that someone would at last put an end to it and his suffering.
I always thought it would be neat if you understood how to stand in my shoes without taking them from me in the middle of a run. Everyone else told me to drop it and go on with my days as a way of saying that I was crazy; but now that it’s been two years since you left I wonder how “neat” it’d be to see you again without pixels and a forever of miles separating us.
Neat. That was one word she often used to describe her desk. Organized was another. Other people- like her mother and siblings- called it messy, crowded, and cluttered. It didn’t matter much to her; everything had its place and she knew where everything was.
I want to keep my bedroom neat but I have a hard time doing this as I prefer to spend my time other ways. I hate this though as I want to keep it clean for my mum as it would make her life easier if she didn’t have to help tidy my room for me.
Wouldn’t it be neat if we could just plan our lives according to our biggest wishes and dreams and have them turn out the way we envision them.
Once upon a time, in a land of robotic police and android Government it was hard to find a neat place to stay. I came from an island in the middle of the Hamlock ocean on planet Juggernaut, in the Yunip system.
Being clean gets you closer to God. That’s what she’d been taught. Dirt was the pathway to sin, and hell, so she scrubbed her hands once again. Raw, red, and bleeding, she reasoned it was nothing compared to the wounds of Jesus, and turned on the faucet to wash her hands again.
If I were to think that the world were neat, it would be an oblivious existence. I’d like to think that I could ignore all of the obvious chaos in the world, if it weren’t so prominent. I guess I’d be a neat freak, because I’m obsessed with the chaos in the world.
If I were to think that the world were neat, it would be an oblivious existence. I’d like to think that I could ignore all of the obvious chaos in the world, if it weren’t so prominent. I guess I’d be a neat freak, because I’m obsessed with the chaos that the world has.
neat: Clean, tidy, pure, very good.
I am not a neat person, because I never fully grasp the need of being neatty. Being neat is something I should try, because certainlly would make my life much easier.
Neat. Isn’t it neat all the things we can do online? Relationships. Entertainment. Consume. All the neat things is the world in one place. We never have to leave our doorstep.
This room is just so neat and tidy that I feel ashamed sometimes about the current situation of my room.
The magician performed a neat trick for the kids who were eagerly awaiting for him to deliver.
She walked into the bedroom and looked around. The mess in front of her would not do; there would be strangers in her house and she could not have them judging her tidiness. She started to organize the clothing and magazines all around the room until it was as neat and tidy as she wanted. When the investigators showed up to look at the crime scene and try to figure out the future murder, they would be in awe at how clean the room was.
I haven’t been in quite some time, the last I remember must have been when I was 10. But it’s hard to remember anything these days, you see, my brain isn’t as #neat as it was in my youth. @oneworddotcom @oznolem
a quick comparison of my script with others gave a clear indication of my thought process and vocabulary. effective exercise.
neatness should be considered in every execution of work. A work of art has an underlying and obivious strength which is its neatness. An artist who takes care of this simple fact remains a
She was forced to be neat but never felt that kind of urge in her. Being neat was a forced quality. It seemed unnatural to her it seemed as if it was stopping the flow of her character of human nature.
She had a way about her, everything didn’t have to be perfectly neat but as long as she knew exactly where everything was then that is all that mattered. She wished he would understand that.
I wish I were neat. I’m the most disgustingly disorganized person I know. But it goes beyond that. I’m just fucking lazy really. I can’t get myself to pick things up, wash dishes or even clean the bathroom.
She placed everything in a neat little pile. In a matter of minutes she burst into tears. She couldn’t help but wonder what was happening to her life. What had happened to her family.
Nothing was ever neat, and he hated it. Paper lazing about by bins, pen stains on the desks, broken blinds that didn’t let the sun shine through. It was prison. Squalid.
He couldn’t stand how neat she always was, her books colour coded and her pens all in line like soldiers on her desk. She never had a hair out of place, and it was infuriating. How could she be so perfect?
It was a mess. Everything was a mess. She had to make it neat. Neat and tidy. So she gave it to her boss. Because her boss liked neat. Her boss was good at neat. And so it became…neat.
my mom always tell me to keep my books tidy on the table. but i cant. maybe it is my imagination flowing, maybe it is my little struggle against a fixed, orderly world; either way, my table is staying the way it is right now.
The room was tidy. Dustless. Neat. Filled with light, but dark at the same time. It was filled to the brim with memories, but empty nonetheless.
A tidy space is a valued space. She knew this, and she clung to it. In these times, this was important information to remember. Clutter would be the death of them all.
The neat handwriting was astounding. I always thought he would have bad handwriting. But everything he did was neat, his clothes, his hair even the whiskey he drank was neat. It was annoying as hell. It was hard to find anything to nitpick.
Neat is a word used often to imply clean and tidy. It’s also used to mean that someone did something quite well.I wouldn’t say I’m a neat person.
you could have folded me up and left me in the corner for ages the way things were going. i was convinced it was because you were trying to keep me safe. that’s what you said, anyways, right? that it was how you treated friends. but i found out soon enough you were just keeping me for when you felt like bringing me out. and i’m not your favorite t-shirt. i won’t wait around for you anymore.
its about a decision. be everywhere well organised or in the terrible mess. its helping you to take everything more easy and handy. that´s the way how to save a lot of time if you have your stuff in pretty neat order
“You build rockets? Neat!” squealed Tiffany, jumping up and down on the balls of her feet. “How do you do it?”
I smiled and took the time to explain the various types of rockets I made. Some were as simple as hollowed out soda cans and some carbonation. Others, of course, were more tinkered and detailed. Of course, I expected her to want to learn how to make rockets immediately, so I excused us both from the dinner table so we could slip into my workshop.
Maybe I thought I would grow up enough that one day things would fit in tidy ways that made good sense.
I was either wrong, or I have not grown up enough. @mosthopeful
Sarah was a neat and tidy girl. She had OCD since she could remember. One day, Sarah meets a girl named Dani. Dani is a slob.
I’m not a neat person. Everything in my life is messy. My life, my closet, and of course my hair. I wish I knew how to make everything neat. I would be able to keep things in order and maybe that would make me happier. Maybe neat hair is overrated though, but maybe i’ll never know.
“Isn’t that NEAT?” the teacher said as she walked away.
The child sat there….not quite sure how to understand what was said.
Was it a comment on her cursive writing? Maybe it did have style. Was the teacher genuinely interested in what she had to say? Did she discover a different way to look at the topic…that her teacher had never seen before? Perhaps by the time the teacher had gotten to her desk…she was running out of interesting adjectives to describe student work.
“I guess I’ll never know,” she muttered as she put away her notebook yet again and sighed.
She had a disorganized brain.
For hours on end she would work. Hair in her face, head bent over her task.
Then she would look
out the window
a bird caught her attention
Or a passerby
She decided it wasn’t worth her time
to be neat and proper – diving face first into each day
with scraped knees and tangled hair;
life was too short to play by the rules.
It was more than just learning how to tackle each new task
it was the opportunity to learn more from the learning itself.
And with her gone, he finally found the words he had wanted to say to her. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I always left you. I’m sorry you were afraid. I thought you were better off without me. I did not try hard enough.”
And in that neat package of words was his whole life, showing itself to be worthless. He hoped only that someone would at last put an end to it and his suffering.
I always thought it would be neat if you understood how to stand in my shoes without taking them from me in the middle of a run. Everyone else told me to drop it and go on with my days as a way of saying that I was crazy; but now that it’s been two years since you left I wonder how “neat” it’d be to see you again without pixels and a forever of miles separating us.
Those… Those pants. They were so orange. So very, very orange. What was I supposed to say to him? I couldn’t tell him the truth, sheesh.
“They’re pretty neat, bro.” I smiled. “Where’d you get ’em?”
“Thanks!” he beamed, and went on to explain where and how he came across them.
Neat. That was one word she often used to describe her desk. Organized was another. Other people- like her mother and siblings- called it messy, crowded, and cluttered. It didn’t matter much to her; everything had its place and she knew where everything was.