Iff Only

Iff only my room weren't such a disaster, a pig sty, in utter disarray. I find it nearly impossible, almost implausible to even begin to divulge the disaster that is my domain. Although I could, should, and will eventually clean it, at the present moment, time present (and regretfully in time past) the area which I consider my cave is unspeakable. In using the simile cave I would like to divert any future confusion; I am not referring to myself as a bear, or bat, or anything like that, but rather strictly defining my room, which is small, dark and used expressly for sleeping, nothing else. As I believe myself to have deviated, went on a tangent, strayed from the topic at hand, it is incumbent upon me to return to the original problem, which is that of my room, cave, what have you. Now, as a person of few words, I would like to close this with a regretful declination; I wish not to offend, affront or eschew the intended topic, but for the sake of every possible person partaking in my blog, I will avoid such descriptions.