Burning Questions
Why is it more fun to shop for home organization products than to actually organize my home?
What is it about public speaking that is so scary?
Is money or time more valuable to me? Does it depend more on how well I use each than on how much I have?
Does complaining about something without acting to make a difference ever really work for anyone?
If I sat here long enough, I bet I could come up with a list of at least 50 questions, but I’m tired. My fortune cookie at dinner said “There is always time for you to try a new path in life.” What a fun sentiment! I figure, as long as I learn from my mistakes along the way, there’s no reason not to try new things. It might do me good to get in over my head once in a while.
Urge to Purge
I’m having really strong urges to get rid of half the things I own. Again. It is probably idealistic of me, but it seems like there is great freedom in having less stuff. That, and I’m tired of feeling anxious as soon as I enter my apartment.
I looked at a couple of sites that offer tips on how to de-clutter. Some of the things make sense. Others, however, don’t work for me. I’m not ready to rid of something like my curling iron just because I don’t use it every month. It works just fine and is easy to store under the sink until the mood strikes, even if it is a rare occurrence. Now, the craft supplies that have been buried in my closet for years? Those can go. It’s not like I have the space to do an art project here anyway.
/end rant.
A Trace of Rancor
I hate myself a little bit today.
Tired of the disastrous state of the kitchen, I washed a bunch of my roommate’s dishes. The thing is, I’m not mad at him for not washing them, I’m mad at myself for choosing to do it and still somehow feeling bitter about it. I’m pretty sure that makes me an idiot.
But, I’m an idiot with a slightly cleaner kitchen.
P.S. Does anyone mind short blog posts? I wonder if I’d write more often if I didn’t worry so much about getting to +150 words…
A List
There are many days where I prefer lists and spreadsheets over cohesively themed paragraphs. Today is one of those days!
- Thanks to a bit of extra income, my credit card balance is $0 and I bought a used 22 string harp! I don’t officially know how to play it, but I’ve figured out how to put together a simple melody. So far it is much easier than guitar since the strings can’t change notes!
- There’s a little badge thingy on the left-hand side of the page that says I’ve lost 21lbs. It rounds – I’ve really only lost 20.5lbs. MyFitnessPal.com has been a big help!
- My apartment is a disaster. It’s difficult for me to figure out how much of it is my fault and how much is the result of living with two guys. I’m pretty sure I was the last person to do dishes…
- I’m still having a LOT of fun with SCA. There’s a big event next Saturday – Stellar University of Northshield. I’m particularly looking forward to the English Country Dancing and How To Develop a Persona classes.
- I signed up to take Interpersonal Communication in the spring, since it’s a required class. I find it terribly amusing that they offer an online version, so I signed up for that one. I haven’t decided if I am going to take a second class or not. I don’t want school to suck up all my free time, but I also don’t want to be taking classes forever.
Things you hide from people
My husband has this sweater. It’s red with a black and white stripe across his chest and down his shoulders and arms. When we were dating he wore it pretty regularly. It looked good on him. Eventually, because it got a fair amount of use, it started to give out. A hole appeared by the stripe on one shoulder. It kept getting bigger and bigger. To be frank, it went from a sweater that looked good on him to a sweater than made him look like a bum. He wore it anyway, like a security blanket he couldn’t part with.
I did laundry for him on occasion during the first couple years of our marriage. One day, after the sweater came out of the dryer, I formulated a plan. I rolled it up the way you would if you were packing a suitcase, and I hid it in one of his storage tubs. I didn’t want to throw it out, I know how sentimental he can be, but I had to stop him from embarrassing me in public. It took him a while to miss it, but the day came when he asked if I had seen his red sweater.
I lied.
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