I was always saying, "I will." But then my brother said something I haven't forgotten. When I was growing up, I shared a bedroom with my brother. He's five years older than I am, and sometimes I think he deserved better. I can't imagine having been in his shoes, trying to make it through high school with a little brother like me barging into the room all the time, cluttering the place up with baseball gloves, tennis shoes, comic books, newspapers and the like. It's not as if I did it on purpose. And I'd always clean it up - eventually. However, that's precisely what bothered him. He wasn't perfect, mind you, and, as boys go, he was about average on the messiness scale. But he would always clean up after himself right away.
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