Why Facebook Needs to Stop Reorganizing My Room!

Until I was about fifteen, my mother cleaned my room. I didn’t ask her to clean it, but we’re Italian, and in an Italian household, a dirty corner or a dusty bookshelf is worse than canned pasta sauce; it’s just not part of our culture. Although I realize my mother had the best intentions, all I wanted to come home to my room to find things exactly as I’d left them.

I still remember the exact feeling of irritation when I’d open my bedroom door and discover she’s “organized” things for me.