Descriptive Essay My Private Hideaway
Descriptive Essay - My Private HideawayEveryone has their morning routine, but do we ever really take the time to notice the little things? After stressful days at school and work, I like to lose myself in my own private hideaway. My bedroom is the last thing I see before I fall asleep every night and the first thing I catch sight of when I awaken. There is something special about the seclusion of a bedroom. Of all places, this is the one setting that is completely your own. It exudes independence, personality, and style of the occupant.
A distorted top forty hit blared through my faithful alarm’s tiny speaker. I pounded the snooze bar with the precision of an elephant stepping on a mouse. Warm rays of the blinding sun peeked through my crooked venetian blinds suggesting the start of a new day. I wiped away the grit of a good nights sleep from my eyes, and saw the dim numbers of the clock taunting me. I stretched my heavy arms and legs, nearly reaching the four posts of my queen size bed. As I wearily crawled out of my warm comforter, my cold feet searched for the familiar white fuzzy rug resting atop my bedroom floor. I lethargically rose out of bed, the carpet fibers lightly tickling the pads of my feet. Looking at my bed, I see the sheets and blankets in dire need of straightening. Two pillows rest at opposite ends – covered by cases made of turquoise cloth. This colour forms a pleasant matching contrast with the darker blues that plainly compromise the colouring of the bedspread. At one corner, I see my sheet, a salmon-coloured item that does not seem to match anything at all, struggling to maintain its grip on the mattress. An array of semi-gloss, eggshell, and shades of Atlantic Ocean Blue cover the four walls and their accompanying baseboards with scattered chips of paint. An enlarged black and white photograph of the Eiffel tower hangs above my bed, its extremely large prominence reminds me of my previous travels. Shelves weighed down with scattered memories protrude from the wall adjacent to the door – topped by a number of photographs in pewter frames. One particular photo jumps out at me of Dene, Melissa, and I sitting on a ridge in Banff, Alberta. Snow-capped camel humps rested patiently in the distance. The light breeze whistled; softly caressing our cheeks and leaving our hair disgruntled. The sweet smell...
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