Life, Disinfected

Guys.

I'm on a spree.

I'm so proud of me.

Last night, I left my laptop at work for the first time in ages, and when I got home I actually...did shit. I turned on some stand-up on Netflix (Aziz Ansari, Louis CK, Jim Gaffigan), and I went to WORK. You would not believe the difference in my apartment between, oh, six and eleven last night. It's like magic elves got their fucking magic on. 

Let me walk you through what was going on in one particular corner of my humble abode over the last few weeks, the hallway where my closet and bathroom are located, my little "dressing area". As I've traveled to Vegas and then San Francisco, as I've slowly run out of clothes due to my shortage of quarters and thus inability to do laundry, and so have needed to dig out every old piece of clothing I could find that would fit me...it has devolved into a state of brightly colored carnage. Clothes and shoes and purses were spilling out of the closet. The floor was barely visible. Hangers dangled haphazardly from each other. The cat would often be found perched on piles of clothes, smirking. It looked, quite frankly, like the spitting image of my closet in high school.

I guess I had devolved, too.

AND NOW. It's beautiful. All clean things hanging neatly and color coordinated. All shoes lined carefully in rows. Everything in its place, and the floor? VISIBLE. 

So that was last night. A full on closet reform, plus finally unpacking my suitcase from Vegas and organizing my dresser and doing a single load of laundry with quarters discovered hidden about the apartment. Then today, instead of rock climbing like I'm brave, I went to the grocery store and a) filled my new crazy pills prescription b) bought cleaning supplies c) got quarters and d) got groceries for the first time in months.

WHO AM I!?

TONIGHT: I plan to scrub the everloving fuck out of my kitchen and my bathroom, and do ALL THE LAUNDRY. I have made playlists, and I am READY. 

I kinda feel like I'm disinfecting my life. 

This has happened before. Emotions make me want to clean. I remember it starting way back from when I was fourteen or so, living up in the Bay Area, overwhelmed with something or other and feeling the intense need to organize. And I think, maybe, this is the sign of something good.

A fresh clean apartment, a fresh clean start. 

Because who can feel like a real, productive member of society whilst living in their own filth? No one. 

The Potential Possibility

An opportunity fell from the sky this week. This opportunity intrigued me enough to look into it, and now I'm a twisted ball of anxiety over it.

Of course.

The opportunity is to potentially move just down the street (like, not even a five minute drive) into a two bedroom, two bath apartment with a girl I knew in high school. We weren't really friends, we had friends in common but were never close ourselves, which is probably the best circumstances for a potential roommate situation. Basically, she had gotten in touch with me about my yoga training a few weeks ago, then I saw that she was looking for a roommate, and on a whim I asked her about it, and checked out the place on Monday night.

And that night, I was so excited.

Basically...I've been feeling really lonely. And I was thinking that maybe moving in with someone would help eradicate this loneliness. But after looking at the place (which is great) and re-meeting the girl (who is also great), I slept on the problem, thought about it all day yesterday, and am thinking now that a move is not right for me. At least not right now.

I think I was so optimistic about the possibility because I was hoping it would totally overhaul my lifestyle. I was falling victim to magical thinking about change. I got it into my head that I could move into a new apartment and everything about my life would suddenly be different. I'd have a built in social life, a built in new friend, a built in opportunity to be someone better and different. But that's, well, stupid. Things don't change just because your environment does. The only thing that would change if I moved is that I would have, you know, a roommate. And yes, I would maybe have more opportunities to socialize, but I could make my own opportunities while still living alone, and that's what I need to focus on.

Moving won't save me that much money. Moving won't really improve my sanity. Moving will give me someone to talk to, sure, but maybe I don't always want that. I like my solitude, most of the time. I like being in charge of my own space, having just Bentley to answer to.

I don't know. I'm going to discuss it with my therapist tonight, but right now I'm thinking the answer is no, but clearly something needs to change. I want to be happier. And to be happier, I need to make an effort.

Sorry if this post is all over the place.

I HAVE THOUGHTS.

The Lazy Life

I have a confession.

For awhile, a long while, months while, I've been basically living in bed. Like, I get home from work, and I go straight to the comfort of my pillows. I watch TV from bed, I write from bed, I eat in bed...I'm there for hours every night, all day on weekends.

It's kind of awful.

No wonder I feel like such a lazy cow. Could it be because I am a lazy cow?

So I made a commitment to myself yesterday to stay out of my bed, for a number of reasons. It'll help me sleep better. It'll help me be more productive. And it'll certainly help me feel less like a sloth.

This weekend while I was making my quiche, I sat down at my kitchen table while it was baking and noticed that I actually have a very nice view there. So last night, I sat there, and I wrote. 

It was lovely.

Then I moved to my couch.

I did some dishes. Put away laundry.

Then to bed.

PROGRESS.

Rewardish #7: Cover Me Up

As I told you, I bought my new comforter/duvet early, you know...apparently, way too early, which could maaaaybe be a part of the reason why I tripped up and went cray for a bit there.

But I got myself back on track, and I've been SO GOOD with my Whole30, and my comforter has just been SITTING THERE, and I think I've earned it, don't you? Even though I'm not quite at my weight yet, I'm almost there, and dammit I DESERVE MY COMFORTER.

Yeah.

ISN'T IT PERFECT?

I have shams too. I just haven't put them out yet.

143 - lowest weight - Roll around on my new comforter and be happy.

139 - new decade - Dye hair.
136 - original goal - Cleaning service to deep clean my apartment. (Instead of getting a massage. What will be more valuable to me, I mean really? My place NEEDS IT.)
132 - college weight - New purse.
130 - Final Goal! - SHOP!
Maintenance Goal - Tattoo

The Productivity Fairy Returns

Was I productive on Thursday night?

Why yes, yes I was.

GIMME GOLD STAR AND COOKIE.

And the fairy dust has sprinkled itself round my pretty little head again today, or something, 'cause I have a few load of laundry in the wash (yes, I traded cash for quarters, and I cried whilst doing so), and did more dishes because there are always dishes to do when you don't have a dishwasher, and I sorted my mail, and I vacuumed.

And now I dust.

And then...I don't even know what I'll do with myself.

Maybe I'll make a mess just to clean it up.

Reward #6: Nah, Mah Stay Here

I'm such a homebody.

You know this.

I love my apartment, my oasis. And I love making it special and warm and cozy...homey, if you will. I knew I was officially growing up when I started buying decorative items instead of clothes to cheer myself up. And the whole point of this reward system is to buy myself things that make me smile and remind myself of my progress, right?

Now every time I come home to my oasis, and am greeted by my new welcome mat, I'll smile and remember the success I've achieved...and smile 'cause I'm HOME.

Nah, mah stay here for awhile.

142 - lowest weight - New comforter.
139 - new decade - Dye hair.
136 - original goal - Get a massage.
132 - college weight - New purse.
130 - Final Goal! - SHOP!
Maintenance Goal - Tattoo

Room With A View: Sunset Shots

The Productivity Fairy

Yesterday at the end of the work day, I told myself no matter what else I did with my evening, I needed to do some dishes.

I did not, of course. 

But good CHRIST, people, my place was a disaster zone. I tripped over something almost every time I got up from the couch (bed). There was a strange smell coming from the vicinity of the trash can, which for some reason was in my room instead of the kitchen. I had no clean bowls left and had taken to eating cereal out of mixing bowls and mugs. 

Shameful. Hurricane Taylor struck again. Even Bentley in the depths of his sickness was judging me with his eyes, like, "Really, bitch? You're not cleaning tonight?"

So today, I went home on my lunch and went into overdrive. I did dishes, and changed my sheets, and took out the trash, and picked up all the laundry off my floor. Granted it's now in piles on my bed and couch, but this is progress. When I get home tonight it will be like the Productivity Fairy paid me a visit!

I'm hoping the fact that I can now see my floor will inspire me to clean it. 

We'll see if this is me in a few hours. 

But more likely, it will be this. 

The Beyond Section

I went a little crazy with my Bed, Bath and Beyond gift cards.

I may have exceeded my gift card funds.

Let's assess the apartment transformations, shall we?

With the assistance of one Mr. Tree, who helped by sitting in a plastic bag, right in my way.

First we have my brand new, big shiny shelves, providing much needed space in my bathroom. Also, check out my squishy new purple rug, and my awesome new colorful towels.

My old shelves got moved to the kitchen, where they became a new pantry. Prior to today all my food stuffs were crammed into a teeny tiny cabinet, and now they have room to breeeathe. Fun fact---I don't have a lot of food.

I also could not resist the allure of something I've wanted for a good long while --- lighted flowers. Or what I ended up with, lighted branches, with little crystal flowers.

Tree approves of the decoration and organization. He does not approve of the blogging, because then I am not paying attention to him.

Freshly Scrubbed and Decorated

Nothing makes me feel quite as girly and pretty as fresh new beauty products.

I got all my new makeup last week, and yesterday I made a run to Target for new facewash and shampoo and conditioner.

I smell deliiicious, and I'm struttin' around all fancylike.

Dork.

Also at Target, on a whim I bought a strand of glass lights. My intent was to hang them above my TV, but they weren't quite long enough so they ended up on the bedroom side of my studio.

I'm questioning my choice now, though. As much as I love color (no really, I love color), are they a little too....young? Am I past the age where I should have colored bulbs in my room?  They're very pretty, a marbled sort of glass, but I'm not sure how I feel. Perhaps I'll exchange them for a different kind of light. Something more mature and lady-like? Clear?

Or maybe I say FUCK IT. I DO WHAT I WANT.

Plus, check out my new wall pictures! I know I mentioned them weeks ago, but it was only last night that I finally got them permanently hung up. They kept falling down, and the zebra frame is sorta broken now. Bah.

You know me, I love my modern motivational posters.

Night Practice

If dog yoga is doga, what is cat yoga?

I put on about twenty minutes of songs, lit a few candles, and stretched out my sore muscles from yesterday's kick-ass class.

I fucking love yoga.

Chinese New Year

Lainey over at my most favorite blog LaineyGossip reminded me last week that today is Chinese New Year, and in order to prepare, one should "clean and clear" one's entire life. This was definitely part of the impetus for my week of beast mode cleaning. The fact that I am not remotely Chinese is irrelevant to me---apparently, Good Luck Avoids A Mess, and I can use all the luck I can get. Plus, as you well know, I just love the symbolism of a new year, regardless of which calendar we're following.

Check out the link above for predictions for your Chinese sign for the year to come. Apparently, us Dragons will have our luck turn around in 2013 after a few years of badness. Yay! I keep saying the universe owes me.

With the sudden energy I was blessed with this week, I tackled every single corner of my apartment. Seriously. As I sit here in bed (yes, still, it's almost four PM), there is nothing I should be doing. Nothing I could organize. Open (almost) any drawer in my apartment, and it is tidied. Surfaces are wiped. Floors are Swiffered and carpets vacuumed. Laundry done, dishes dry and tucked away. My place looks absolutely glorious, and today's laziness is well-earned. It's a weird feeling.

Monday night, I cleaned and organized my vanity and bathroom. Scrubbed my tub, replaced my shower curtain liner, threw away countless half full bottles of beautifying nonsense.

Tuesday, I tackled my bookcase.

Wednesday, I faced the incredibly daunting task of my desk. The before pic below was already halfway through the process, and you don't even want to know how much stuff was in those drawers.

Thursday I organized my DVDs and my TV stand, and reorganized all my various elephants, decorative flowers, and beach paraphernalia.

Friday night, I organized my jewelry, which was either in piles on my bookcase or all dumped in a tray in my closet.  NOW LOOK.

Yesterday, I did laundry, cleaned my floors and dusted all surfaces and Windexed my mirrors (and caught Tree pawing at his handsome reflection), organized my kitchen cabinets, rearranged enough shelves to move my Crock Pot from its random home on my kitchen table, found my passport after a brief fifteen minute panic of not knowing where it was, cleaned out my car, sorted through old purses, finished any tidying in my closet, and organized my shoes. And got rid of shoes. It hurt my heart more than anything else I threw away this week, so let us have a moment of silence for all my fallen shoulders. And let us applaud the survivors.

So, yeah, today I'm in bed and I like it. I deserve it.

Happy New Year...again!

Found Objects

As I have mentioned, I've been in beast cleaning mode all damn week. It was truly impressive. I would get home from work, I'd turn on my TV and watch some detectives bust some baddies, and I'd go to town on the historical messes of my life.

And I have found some things.

Such as...

*Many bookmarks. All with cats on them. BECAUSE OF COURSE.
*So. Much. Change. But minimal quarters. I guess over time I have picked myself clean for laundry purposes.
*So. Many. Cords. But if I haven't used them in years, I probably don't need them...right? Right. TOSSING.
*Who knew I had so many pairs of scissors? I don't remember ever buying scissors.
*Aww. I saved some cute souvenirs from teenage-hood. I do believe this was a Christmas gift when I was fourteen from my BFF at the time.

*Multiple Belle from Beauty and the Beast toys. I guess I really do have a prominent inner child.
*Collegiate paraphernalia. GO HUSKIES. Did we like...win any games this year? I don't pay attention. Fail.

*Way too many greeting cards. I worked at a stationary store in SB for awhile and I collected them. I should start sending them out...
*Way too many magazines. I hate throwing them out, I always think I'll slice them up and use them for crafts...TOSS.

*I got a dolla, I got a dolla, I got a dolla hey hey hey hey!
*And a wide assortment of family photos. I was such a gorgeous child.

Bookin' It

In my quest for an organized life, I tackled my bookcase a few days ago. I dug through the piles of jewelry and mail that decorated the shelves, sorted through the stacks on stacks of books, filled two shopping bags to donate, and when I was finished, it had transformed!

The left is actually after I'd already cleared all the jewels off....

That is disgraceful.

No, not how many books I have. That is glorious. No, the disgraceful part is that I have not read even 50% of those books. I'll say maybe a third of them, but probably no more than that. Shameful.

The problem is, I would always buy maybe five books at a time, read two, buy five more, read two, and dig myself into a GIANT HOLE. And then I'd be like, "I want something to read, but all these books are BORING!" And I'd go buy more at the used book store for a dollar apiece. I now have my shiny new Kindle, so it's doubly hard to get me to motivate myself to pull a real, actual paper book off the shelves.

And thus, I have made a personal rule. For every book I buy on my Kindle, I am required to try one from my collection. If I don't like it, fine, I just have to give it away and not put it back on the shelves.

That seems reasonable, yes? Yes.

Right now I'm reading "On the Island" by Tracey Garvis-Graves, I have no recollection of buying it but I'm pretty sure it ends with a 30 year old woman banging a 17 year old boy, so I'm sure I'll be entertained. Then back to the Kindle with the sequel to "The Body Finder".

YAY WORDS.

Hoarder Avoider

Confession time:

I have long struggled with hoarder tendencies. I mean, I don't have piles of trash with dead animals concealed beneath (or do I...), but I certainly have entirely too much stuff. I've moved four times in the last four years, seven in the last seven, and I have carted around so much junk that I never use. Things that have no purpose or meaning. Useless nonsense.

But I've found it impossible to get rid of most of it. For years, I have struggled. Whenever I commit to cleaning and organizing, and I am faced with something I've clung to for a decade, I start to argue with myself. "Oh but what if I need this?!" or "But this has personal meaning!" "I don't want to have to buy it again..." "SENTIMENTAL VALUE!" And that's how I end up with every drawer in my apartment full of crap and my bookcase crammed with crap and my closet stuffed with crap. CRAP.

But this week, I have been going just nuts. I am in beast mode. I have thrown out so many garbage bags full of trash and I have multiple boxes of stuff to give away or sell. I'm on fire and I ain't done yet, yo.

I think this motivation must be medically-rooted. I blame my anti-depressants, or a placebo effect. I would never have made the connection that my anxiety about getting rid of stuff would be affected by taking some little green pills, but I find myself holding items I've kept since I was sixteen, shrugging and saying, "Eh, don't need it!" and tossing them without a second thought.

I feel cleansed.

And so glad that when I eventually die, I won't be buried alive under a mountain of half-blank journals. Wouldn't that be ironic?*

*Would it? Would it? I still don't know when I use that word correctly.

Live Yours In Color

Mood Enhancers

Clearly, a switch has flipped. The thing I've been waiting for.

'Cause every day this week, I've just felt better and better, more focused and more sure, and right now I'm in a fucking fantastic mood. Best in ages.

The following reasons contribute to this joy:

• Little elephants.

• My amazing motherton went to CottonOn today in SB to replace the two shirts I shrank. I LOVE HER MUCH.
• I am cleaning out my nightstand (oh yeah, tackling the list), and found an old wallet. In the wallet was an old Bloomingdales gift card. I called to check if there was anything left on it: $28 bucks! Then found a Nordstrom one: $13! I'M RICH BITCH. Obviously I'm now exploring their online sale sections. Then: $3 each to Trader Joe's and motherfuckin' PINKBERRY. Heyo. JOY.
• Just finished up my third day straight of being totally on track with my eating. And it gets easier every day. Imagine that.
• I found three quarters.
• This guy. Look at him, rolling around on my freshly vacuumed rug, not giving a fuck, refusing to stay still for a picture. Now we're snuggling. Love the bastard.

Naked Tummies and Healing Hearts

I think he'll be okay, guys. You can relax now.

Granted, I'm still waiting to hear on some blood tests, and a radiologist is going to inspect his x-rays (fancy), but the vet didn't find anything suspicious, and I'm going to choose to believe that means Bentley is healthy as a horse. Or a kitten. Yes. He's just a baby.

He was very tired last night after his trying day at the doctor, and those cruel bastards shaved his tumtum for an abdominal ultrasound. He is shamed.

I had planned to have the Married Couple over for dinner and didn't think "sick cat" was a reasonable excuse for cancelling, and I didn't really want to anyway! We had a nice meal (same dinner I made for my parents' anniversary, and it was again a hit) and chatted and lounged. Tree claimed a spot on the couch right between the two of them so he could get maximum pets.  Such a whore.

I cleaned the shit out of my apartment on Monday to get ready for my guests, and I'm really going to try to keep it this way. Yes I am. YesIamIamIam. I say it every damn time and somehow Hurricane Taylor erupts and spews mess all over the fucking place, but not this time.

They stayed a few hours, then Bentley and I watched last week's episode of "Hart of Dixie" (his favorite 'cause of all the cute boys), and observed an early bedtime. We fell asleep spooning, his head resting on my arm and his little purrs creating a soothing soundtrack.

Healthy as a kitten.

Who still needs fluids and pills.

But still.

Healthy.

"Except we've changed the word 'love' to 'Christmas'..."

This is my life.

Most evenings, I am one found of two places:

1) On my laptop on the couch.

2) On my laptop in bed.

If I'm enjoying the former, this is happening.

And if I am living the latter option, this is what you would probably see if you entered my apartment.

I know, you're immensely jealous of my life and all my snuggles.