My brother is a collector. He and his coterie poke through piles of junk around town and bring back the most trivial and bizarre items only to lose them in the confines of his disastrous room.
The boy became an only child when both my sister and I went off to college. Having no one to heed to, other than my parents, he took over the useless den in our basement as his own and abandoned his bedroom. In result, his bedroom had turned into a dumping ground for all his clothes, trash, and of course the random knick knacks he's picked up over the years.
Now, the infamous Cheyenne Frontier Days have arrived - 10 days of rodeo, parades, carnivals, pancake breakfasts, country western music, beer, and cowboys. Hotel rooms are full and twice the price of a normal night. Although living a block from Frontier Park, the home of the world's largest outdoor rodeo, is highly annoying, it gives an advantage to those who know us. A large house allows the opportunity to house those several friends who are crazy enough to want to partake in this wild west fest. But in order to do so, the house must be clean.
Away at a camp this week, my brother is not home. So I was given the undesirable job of cleaning his room. Despite the horror I faced, I rediscovered his many odd treasures hidden inside, such as...
Old license plates and street signs.
Welding helmets.
Huge "SALE" banners.
And creepy lawn ornaments.
After many hours of digging, sorting, scrubbing, and disposing, I was able to establish some sort of order in his personal junkyard.
Needless to say, I think I did a damn good job.
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