When we lived in the apartment, the girls' room was usually a disaster. Apple cores behind the bookshelf, books spilling out of said shelf, floor a minefield of spilt beads and markers and polly pockets. Their closet was even worse : a tangle of clothes, dirty thrown in amongst the clean, with some toys mixed into the mess. I would ask them to clean it up, they'd procrastinate, I'd get annoyed and moan at them, they'd eventually do a half-hearted job, and a day later it'd be hideous again.

Since we've moved, both girls have kept their new rooms absolutely immaculate. Beds made each and every morning, books neatly arranged, closets perfect ... The interesting part is, I don't have to ask them to do it, it all comes from them. I had thought that the tidiness would wear off after a week or so - it seemed too good to be true - but we've been here just over two months now and they're still keeping it up. Clearly, having their own space agrees with them. Though they still choose to sleep together every night, which I find very sweet.

Sadly, Stephen's room was a mess in the apartment, and it's a mess here. Clothes and papers and magazines and newspapers and water glasses and wet towels all mixed up on the floor. The mess doesn't seem to bother him in the least, though; he's quite happy to lie on his bed in amongst the ick and listen to music, for instance. Fortunately, this house is big enough that I can just close the door and forget about it. In the apartment, if his door was closed, it used to make the passage which led to the bathroom seem dark and oppressive, whereas with the door open it seemed light and airy.

Ugh. I think I'm getting a sore throat. I've been trying to ignore it for the last few hours, but it's getting distinctly worse. I wonder if there's any point in doing the vitamin C thing tomorrow, or if it's already too late. My throat feels scratchy and the air hurts it when I inhale. And the glands in my neck are sore and swollen. Yuck.