It's as simple as this. I tell Precious Princess that if she doesn't clean up her dressing table I will drag its contents into a garbage bag and haul it outside into the big stinky bin.
This pic has not been tampered with. The drawers were dragged out on this angle when I entered the room to gather incriminating photographic evidence against my eldest daughter.
This is how a 19-year-old from a good family treats her own flesh and blood. How she pays back the mother, who's sacrificed her youth and sanity for her family.
I'm a neat person. Not fastidious. But I do dust occasionally. And I enjoy a certain amount of order in my life. So, where did I go wrong with daughter No 1?
Or will it all come good when she leaves home (please God?) and someone who has nothing at all to do with la famiglia cuts her down to size. Calls an ace an ace, a spade a spade. A mess a disgusting mess.
The really funny thing (always on reflection) is that when I point out the chaos that is her room (and I've only photographed one little bit of it) she looks at me like I'm the crazy one.
"Ok, ok, ok, ok. I'll do it, I'll do it, I'll do it." The usual response. Door slams in my face. I nag at door. At least door doesn't answer back.
Three weeks later, the dressing table doesn't look all that different. Though she has managed to shut the drawers.
PS: She doesn't know that I took this pic. That is my revenge.