3 Reasons Why I Can’t Unpack Right Now

Or, 3 Reasons Why I’ve Worn the Same 4 Outfits to Work for Weeks

1. Moving drained my life force.

Packing up one’s entire domicile is a hideous undertaking. Not only do you have to spend hours carefully packing stuff like wine glasses and the trinkety crap from the mantel–you also have to worry about getting the curtain rods down (and how do you pack/transport curtain rods? or brooms for that matter? things that don’t fit in boxes drive me MAD) and taking pictures off the wall and cleaning out that weird dark closet under the stairs where the old litter boxes sit silently mouldering.

There are so many deeply annoying aspects to moving. I barely managed to survive them this time. All my energy went into staying sane for the few weeks before the move and now I’ve got nothing left. I’m a lifeless husk of my former self. I’ve turned into the Autumn-zombie.

Confession: I spent 45 minutes playing with the Dead Yourself app. In the end I couldn't put a zombie mouth on there cause I was too scared.

Confession: I spent 45 minutes playing with the Dead Yourself app. In the end I couldn’t zombify my mouth cause it was too scary and I wanted to cry.

2. There are too many TV shows.

Currently I am watching Buffy, Angel, Bones, New Girl, and Scandal. I recently finished the new Arrested Development and Firefly. Y’all. I can’t stop streaming. Send help.

Buffy

How did Joss Whedon make a show that is half campy horror and half profound exploration of the meaning of life? I’ll never understand.

Seriously, why is TV so good? I have spent so much time binge-watching on Netflix that my eyeballs ache in bright sun and there’s an Autumn-shaped imprint in my corner of the couch. I have lost the will to make my own food (thanks for keeping me alive, GrubHub) or wear real clothes.

I just need to finish the shows I’m watching now and then I’ll be good. Well, unless I start The West Wing. Or Alias. Or The X-Files. I heard those shows are dope, y’all.

3. Our new place needs some serious TLC.

Check out this toilet. I’m a little afraid to use it because I suspect it’s a secret portal to the 70s. Can you imagine speeding through time and space and arriving in the 70s via toilet? Not. Fly.

Yellow toilet

On the bright side, it’s not avocado green. I think that would be marginally worse.

As you can see, there is also carpet in the bathrooms, which registers like a 7.0 on the Ick-ter Scale. Plus the paint on all the walls and trim is dirty and faded and sad, and the “finished” basement is like a dungeon, if dungeons had orange-and-yellow carpet.

Don’t get me wrong, I actually like this place so much more than our last one. It’s super spacious and closer to work and in a great neighborhood and we’re saving *buckets* of money on rent. We can bike to work every day and we have a lovely patio and lots of natural light. The kitties adore it.

But it’s old and outdated and it will require some serious elbow grease (guys, by the way, wtf is elbow grease?) before it can be attractive and comfortable. And the problem is, most of the painting and decorating and camouflaging of yellow toilets needs to be done before I can fully, truly unpack. The thought is overwhelming. I’m completely paralyzed. Just…I can’t even. Hand me the remote somebody.

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4 Reasons Why I Am Embarrassed

Or, 4 Reasons Why I’m A Goober

1. It’s been 3 months since my last post.

I mean, good lord. That’s pretty much a lifetime. I can’t believe what a sadsack blogger I am. So…what’s up with you guys? Anything exciting? I trimmed my bangs too short back in March. That’s my news.

2. All my pants look like this.

Piglet is in this picture because she was chasing a fly. Note the crazy eyes.

Piglet is in this picture because she was chasing a fly. Note the crazy eyes.

How did it come to this, you ask? Well, I’m short and lazy. That’s like the perfect storm of bad traits in terms of pant length. Every pair I buy is too long and I’m certainly not going to do any actual hemming. I mean, I took this picture when I went downstairs to get my sewing machine and pin up the pants to the right length, and the whole time I knew I was lying to myself. I just color-coordinated the yarn in my yarn drawer and eventually got chased away by an angry fly.

So the upshot is that I go to work everyday looking like Huck Finn.

3. I used my busy academic library’s borrowing service to get this book.

How to Seize a Dragon's Jewel (How to Train Your Dragon 10) by Cressida Cowell. Picture from www.amazon.co.uk.

How to Seize a Dragon’s Jewel (How to Train Your Dragon 10) by Cressida Cowell. Image from http://www.amazon.co.uk.

Although the ILL folks are all very kind and would assure me that I’m not using this service inappropriately, I know they’d just be saying that to make me feel better. It’s clear that our interlibrary loan exists for researchers who need that obscure but crucial article or they can’t finish writing the incredibly serious paper/thesis/book chapter which must be completed BY NEXT WEEK OH GOD PLEASE PLEASE LET THE ARTICLE GET HERE SOON OR I’M DOOOOOOOMED

And here I am clogging up the works with kids’ books. But you guys, these books. They are the absolute best. Please please read them yourself and then give them to all the kids you know and also make sure to listen to the audiobooks which are narrated by David Tennant. Yes, that David Tennant. You remember David Tennant, right?

And of course he narrates them with adorable Scottish-y brilliance. Don’t miss it.

4. There are eight realistic toad figurines on my eBay watchlist right now.

And I spent a long time at work today carefully comparing these toads and wondering which would look the most…er, toady. The wartier the better. Because [imagine my voice going into high-pitch rapid-fire mode right about now] I’M DOING A HARRY POTTER EXHIBIT AT THE LIBRARY AND IT HAS TO BE PERFECT. I am obsessed. Harry Potter deserves nothing less than the best, you guys, so I’m giving it my all. (I should probably also remember to catalog some stuff though.)

Is it just me, or is this one a little too cute?

Is it just me, or is this one not warty enough?

Hey, does anyone have a cute little burlap sack I could borrow for three months? I need it for dragon dung. Thx.

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6 Reasons Why I’m Glad To Be 30

Or, 6 Reasons Why I’m Not Bummed About Getting Older (Even Though I Had To Spend My Birthday Money On A New Car Battery Instead of Lotto Tickets Or a Tattoo)

1. I’m free to indulge my inner 70-year-old.

Sometimes I hear people lamenting the changes in their lives as they get older, like “I used to be able to function on 3 hours of sleep but not anymore!” and “All I really want to do these days is sit around the house.” And I’m thinking to myself, “Wait, you weren’t always that way?”

It’s like I emerged from the womb as a senior citizen. Throughout my life, I have been the cause of many sighs and head-shakings by my cooler, more energetic friends who despair at my lame and boring behavior. But now that I’m getting older I can finally stop feeling ashamed and just embrace my geriatric predilections.

I can eat toast for dinner and go to bed early on a Friday night. I can complain about my back spasm (as I type this, I’m lying flat on the couch with an ice pack). I can talk about real estate markets and retirement funds. I can do crosswords at home instead of going out, or bring my crochet bag to social functions. It’s all ok! I’m 30! No one expects me to be fun and interesting any more. Oh, the relief. The sweet, sweet relief.

Oh, also, I need to clip some coupons.

Oh, also, I need to clip some coupons.

2. I feel somewhat ready to have kids.

I mean, I made it this far without killing or seriously maiming myself (unless you count the back spasm). I should be able to care for a child without endangering its welfare too terribly much, right? I am starting to have a little more confidence in my grown-up abilities, and less of a lurking feeling that I’m still a child myself. Which leads me to my next point…

3. I’m suddenly a legitimate adult. 

I think the world often overlooks or patronizes 20-somethings. Whether this is deliberate or unconscious, who can say—but in my various workplaces, I always felt people viewed me as the kid straight out of college and I often struggled to be taken seriously. Now I’ve finally established myself in a true career, I’m beginning to be an expert on some really official-sounding topics, and colleagues give more weight to my opinions and ideas.

Another example: I’m a very picky person. Like, about everything. Food, art, music, decorating, clothing, books, you name it. In my early adulthood, I got the feeling people believed I was just being difficult or resistant to trying new stuff. But now I’m a distinguished woman of the world. People don’t question your finicky behavior when you’re 30—they just respect your sophisticated palette and your unique personal style.

(click to enlarge)

4. I’m easily pleased.

When I got in to work the other day, there was a new office chair waiting on me with inflatable lumbar support and adjustable arm rests. I actually squealed a little bit. There may even have been some clapping of the hands. When you’re 30, it doesn’t take much to make you happy. For instance, when just one of the following occurs, the day is officially a win:

  • campus dining hall serves decorated sugar cookies at lunch
  • Piglet doesn’t poop on the floor next to the litterbox
  • iTunes shuffle plays “Total Eclipse of the Heart”
  • opportunity to quote Star Wars arises
  • I don’t lose my sunglasses/keys/phone/wallet

What this means is, I’ve gotten to the point where I don’t need my life to be constantly exciting or entertaining—I just need it to not suck. Which means that, in turn, those little out-of-the-ordinary things, like seeing a snoozing possum up close at a zoo event or discovering a new yummy restaurant, seem mindblowingly awesome.

Seriously, guys, that possum was surprisingly cute. All sleepy and furry, with his little hand-feet curled up. Annnnhhh.

5. My 20s were kind of…ghastly.

I know that sounds a bit harsh considering I met and married my husband in my 20s but he’d probably say the same. We had no money, no jobs or insurance half the time (thanks recession!), we were working and attending school the other half, we moved three times in four years, and we agonized constantly over possible career paths and decisions. Now I feel like we’ve finally settled into our chosen directions and made some progress. There’s less stress, less uncertainty, and more living LIKE A BOSS.

6. I may finally take exercise and flossing seriously.

The time just feels right.

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