Worn Through in the Thighs
I just purged my closet of ill/non-fitting pants. And a few terribly stained t-shirts. Seriously, I just threw out over half of the pants I owned. I’d have donated them if they were in wearable condition, but alas.
I’m going to make an effort to buy a new shirt every week or two for the next couple of months in order to improve my wardrobe slightly. I have no plans to become fashionable, but it would be nice to have more than a half dozen shirts that are appropriate for wearing in public, heh.
The majority of pants I threw out had holes in the thighs. That’s a problem I wish I didn’t have. It’s a problem I know I could do something about if I really focused. I’m so good at making excuses though. Going out to dinner with my husband gives us quality time together away from the slew of electronic devices we’d be drawn to at home. Cook at home is often stressful and unfulfilling because the kitchen is usually a mass of empty 12-pack cartons, dirty dishes, and ancient leftovers. Going to the gym on a regular basis would mean spending less time with family and friends. See? I’m great at excuses. I have lots more, trust me.
Balance is not something I excel at when it comes to my health. I need to find an approach that isn’t all-or-nothing.
My Grandmother
I was doing a bit of cleaning this morning and ran across an old CD with this photo of my grandma on it. When I was in college I took a photoshop class and we had to do a restoration of an old picture. I chose the one above. Would you believe it used to have water spots and creases through it?
Anyway, it was a lot of fun restoring the photo. She was so beautiful when she was young! I wish I had been able to get to know her better. I think I would appreciate her a lot more now, as an adult. If I could go back to when she was 50yrs old or so, and have dinner with her, I bet I’d learn a lot about her life. I know it wasn’t an easy one.
Procrastinator’s Pace
Ahh, the guilt of procrastination. It freezes me at times. Take the past month, for instance. I see this endless list of things I’m ‘supposed’ to do, things I’ve brought upon myself, but I don’t do them. I don’t know why… surely I’d feel more free if I completed these things. But, I’m still here, stuck. The guilt causes me to avoid things I love as a sort of punishment – if I can’t honor my personal commitments, why should I allow myself to blog? Or take new photographs? I’m not sure there’s logic in it, but it’s the way my brain works sometimes.
I wish I could organize my personal life as easily as I can my work and school lives. I rarely fall behind when I am accountable to someone other than myself, when I have a manager or teacher to please. Why can’t I award myself the same respect and discipline? Why can’t I do the same for friends or family?
*sigh* Maybe admitting this will make me feel accountable. Maybe I’ll actually complete those commitments someday. It’d surely be better than wallowing in this guilt.
Small Apartment Blues
I don’t know what to do about my apartment. I don’t know where to start when it comes to organizing it, and I think I’m the only person who really cares what the place looks like anyway. We have limited space, too many possessions, and no desire to clean up or finish unpacking. The real bummer is, Christmas is just 6 weeks away, and I don’t know if we’ll have anywhere to eventually put the tree! Our tree didn’t make it out last year partly because of a lack of space, and we have even less room at this new apartment.
It’s not like I have some big design plan, but it’s getting really depressing living this way. There are days when I’m not at all excited to go home after work. Maybe that’s part of why Jon and I go out to eat so often and go shopping so much, other places feel more comfortable and relaxing than our own ‘home’.
Renting storage space somewhere might help a little, but wouldn’t solve the overall disorganization or cleanliness problems. It’s a double edge sword for me… I’m upset and frustrated that the place is always a mess, but if I put in the work to clean it I end up resenting the other people who live here because I think to myself… “I really can’t have made more than 1/3 of the chaos, so why should I clean all of it?” I know that’s not fair, they’re entitled to live their preferred lifestyle too. Their priorities are different than mine, and that should be perfectly fine.
I guess I should just focus on my half of my bedroom, where my desk is located. It’s not much better than the rest of the apartment at this point, and it’s the part of my 1/3 that I spend the most time in. *sigh* Why does being an adult include so much boring and tedius crap like housework?! (Don’t mind me, I may just need some sleep…)
Hi, Neighbor!
Sometimes, I think think the ideal situation would be for me and my husband to live right next door to one another, each in our own little 1 bedroom apartment. We’d be happily married neighbors! A connecting door between our living rooms would be fine. He could decorate in the “1980′s lawyer look” (black shiny metal and glass, over stuffed seating) he likes, store all his collections of things, and be as messy as he wanted. I could pretend my apartment was a cute little city loft and paint the walls bright colors and shop at cool antique stores for furniture. Maybe someday when we get a house he can just have the basement all to himself and I can set up the upstairs my way. That’d be ok too.
Also, I’m weirdly sensitive to invading other people’s time and space, even my husband’s. Currently, I’m supposed to be unpacking stuff in the kitchen, but I dislike the idea of moving around the things he already unpacked, and I feel especially odd about moving my roommate’s stuff. Like earlier today, I moved some of his food storage containers to a higher shelf to make room for the spices, and it felt weird, like I should ask permission first.
Maybe it’s because I want to treat others how I’d like to be treated, and I really don’t enjoy finding my stuff rearranged without my advanced consent. When I was a kid, my mom used to reorganize my bedroom while I was off at school. It didn’t make me angry or upset really, I just found it chaotic not knowing where my stuff was, and I’ve never liked being surprised like that.
Maybe I just need to take a ‘big girl pill’ and get over myself. I can’t live in a bubble, even if I’d like to some days.
Your Host
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