Nesting

I'm either seven months pregnant or just getting ready for the upcoming "hermit" season because I spent (almost) the whole weekend organizing my apartment.
I hadn't cleaned my room in over a month and it was bad. I even took a picture as a "before", but was so disgusted by how I was living that I couldn't bring myself to post it. As a Virgo, I'm supposed to love living in an orderly way, which is true in the common areas of my apartment, but definitely not in my room. I was living out of a laundry bag, and since everything in there was clean, I HAD to put the dirty clothes on the floor. For weeks I was walking on top of my clothes, including a bridesmaid dress that I ripped off as soon as I got home from the wedding last weekend (mostly to get out of the worst invention in the world - a strapless bra - as quickly as possible).
When I was done with my organizing, I had filled an entire duffel bag full of clothes that I'll be donating. Not just a small duffel bag either, but a gigantic one - one that I fit inside (as I've confirmed. It was a lonely weekend, I needed to be entertained somehow). I took everything out of my dressers and re-organized them. I took everything out of my wall o' bookshelves and reworked it. I pulled all of my shoes out of the closet and placed the shoes I never wear towards the back, shoes I feel guilty for never wearing towards the front and the shoes I always wear, on top of those.
This was not enough. By Sunday I organized all of my spices, which included creating a make-shift shelf to put the spices I use most (garlic, cumin, oregano) up front and the ones I use the least toward the back (nutmeg, curry, chicken seasoning (?)). Then, with everything organized there, I decided I needed to bake for the upcoming Thanksgiving trip to northern Massachusetts. I made a pumpkin chocolate chip loaf. While that was baking, I cleaned out all the flour/sugar jars and cabinet above the oven. Did my roommate need to hold onto that white chocolate Easter bunny still? Probably not, as it's been there for at least the last year and half I've lived there. How about that maple syrup that expired in 2007? Nah.
When the loaf was done (and deliciously un-poisoned, as one should always check), I made apple turnovers. Then jalapeno corn bread. Then dinner.
After dinner, I knit for a few hours before I fell asleep listening to Tracy Morgan's audio book (which I highly recommend!).
So while I could have found more exciting things to do this weekend, I'm really happy that I spent the time cleaning, organizing and knitting because I'm going to be gone for a lot of December (traveling for work/going home for the holidays for an ungodly amount of time).

I think I'm in love

Last week, I sent a big box of books to my friends and the most adorable baby alive in California. Said baby, Eleanor, and I are both big fans of Ian Falconer's Olivia character, so I had to hook a fellow fan up.

I came home from work last night to a giant package outside my door. My friends bought me eight pairs of underpants from Victoria's Secret as a thank you. It was one of the most thoughtful gifts I've ever received. Because of them, I can stay alive and well for eight more days than before.

Check out my new knickers:

Laundro-loathe

I hate doing laundry. And, now, even my mom hates when I do laundry.

Last year, after letting my laundry pile grow for a month I waited until the last possible day before I had to do it: the day I ran out of underpants. I changed out of my work clothes - sans underpants - laced up my shoes and headed down the steep steps of my apartment building and the rickety steps out the back of the building with a bag that must have weighed at least 50 pounds.

I had three more small steps to conquer before I could get into the communal laundry room. I'm not sure what happened but I fell and heard my ankle pop. I was still hugging my laundry bag and sprawled out over the cold, dirty concrete crying. Instead of surveying the situation, I just continued crying and having a panic attack. I thought I was going to die alone and no one was going to find me. No one in my building would come looking for me and they'd find me days later, tears frozen to my face and not wearing any underpants beneath my jeans (I don't recommend this).

After a few minutes, I realized I wasn't going to die, my ankle wasn't very swollen and I wasn't even bleeding. I crawled into my laundry room and put the clothes in the wash. After all, I didn't have any underpants. I hobbled back up to my apartment and rolled up my pant leg to reveal this:

I called a friend of mine in the neighborhood who was nice enough to take me to the hospital. I was so embarrassed because I've always been told to wear clean underpants in case I have to go to the hospital (among other reasons). And, I was really messing up that life lesson. I got an X-ray and the doctor told me it was broken. The next day my brother was nice enough to drive from Philadelphia to take me to get it casted. After another X-ray, it turns out it wasn't broken.

But, now there is nothing I dread more than doing laundry. I get a knot in my stomach; I'll delay it any way possible. I've worn bathing suit bottoms instead of underpants to delay it one more day. I've purchased new underpants. I had to do laundry today, and I survived. My mom called me to let me know she was thinking of me and to remind me to take my time going down stairs and remain calm. It looks like I'll be safe for one more month.