Descriptive Essay


When I was little, I had an imaginary friend named Bertha. My parents thought I was naming my room Bertha, and as a result naming rooms has always been a game in my family.


My roomís name is Eppy. Eppy is an extension of myself. Throughout the years, Eppy has grown with me. She has accommodated all of my sibling feuds, posters, fads, furniture changes, and houseguests since the fifth grade. I love my Eppy, and my Eppy loves me.


When Eppy and I first met in fifth grade, she was a revolting shade of ďBarbieĒ pink. Her thick layers of paint were peeling off like dandruff on a hairless Chihuahua. Her carpet smelled of rancid onions. It wasnít a pleasant site.


My first bonding experience with Eppy was her full-body makeover. I scraped away at the layers of rotting pink paint for what seemed like days.


Working our way down from the top of the room, my dad and I painted. My dad used a power roller. It sucked the paint out of a bin and evenly distributed it wherever the roller went. He never had to ďdip and rollĒ the roller every thirty seconds like I did. We each painted two walls in under an hour. The first and second primer coats were an off-white color that slightly resembled tan. After two primer coats, we began to paint the walls with our tan paint. Two coats of tan paint later, Eppy looked like a million dollars. I could almost see Eppy smile with joy.


Currently, my room is a hodgepodge of items. Iím a bit of a pack-rat, so things rarely get thrown out. In one corner of my room are all of my musical instruments. There is a beautiful Ovation acoustic-electric guitar sitting on a metal guitar stand. The guitar has a light spruce top and a hardened-plastic belly. The clarity and precision of the instrument are unbelievable. Next to it, and sitting on a slightly less impressive stand, is my electric bass. It is a Fender jazz bass, and has a two-tone sunburst finish with a maple fret board and a pearl-white pick guard. My various recording devices sit in a pile in front of the instruments.


My dresser top is baron, but the top of my desk is a clutter of technological gadgets and computer peripherals. My floor is for the most part clean. There is rarely anything other than a random sock lying on my carpet. Eppy likes her floor to be neat and vacuumed.


Eppy has seen a lot with me. She has been there throughout numerous girlfriends, verbal fights, houseguests, and three pets. Her once beautiful walls now have scuffmarks on them. Her carpet has a few stains on it, but itís nothing she canít handle. Thatís because Eppy is a fighter. She was restored by my own hands, and still has many good years left in her. Gee whiz, I love my Eppy!