20 Bedroom Description

Situated in the back corner of the house, tucked away down many series of hallways, my room waits to be discovered. A big rectangular room. My room is filled with dark furnitures, browns and blacks, like all the life has been drained from them. The walls and the floor contrast the furniture like stripes on a zebra, all light shades of beige. My room is quiet. The occasional sound of a door closing, or the wind rustling through the leaves through the open window, looking out over the backyard, enclosed by shrubbery. The room feels alive, random objects thrown around to all corners, my desk covered with notebooks of many colors, papers, and pens. My room has an interesting scent, a combination of wood, paper, and fabric softener. A pile of clean clothes here. Bags thrown there. Upon entering my room, it will appear like a mess, but I classify it as an organized mess. I can tell you where everything is, and every pile is put somewhere so that if I need it, it will be right there for me to grab. And then there is the piece de resistance, memorabilia, baseball memorabilia everywhere. My room, head to toe, is covered in trophies, plaques, and souvenirs from watching, and playing baseball. It looks like someone took a normal room, and went over it with a baseball paint, wall to wall, floor to ceiling. My room is comfortable. It feels like an extension of my own body, an extra limb. My room is warm, right around body temperature, and the occasional sunlight from the window illuminates the whole room.