We're so close. A few more class projects, a thesis, a grant, and a comprehensive exam and we are free people. Sort of.
Turns out I'm the TA again for the Social Context class which will be in the spring. Executive style. I can handle that.
I told my visiting teachers they could come over at 9 this past Saturday. Why would I ever do that? Because that's the only time I had that week. I totally forgot about them coming over until we heard a knock on the door. No one ever knocks on our door. We live in the basement so all misguided people talk to the people upstairs.
I threw some clothes on and looked around. No time to clean up the remnants of what looks like a tornado. Clothes everywhere. Really everywhere. Shoes- even more out of place. Catch the heel of your pumps in bare feet and you'll learn to put those in the right spot when you take them off your feet. Or at least you should...I apparently never learn.
That was Saturday. Has much changed since then? Not really. We've added a few bowls to the towering pile of dishes in the sink. We're now out of silverware...I used the last fork today. Now we'll start using measuring spoons to eat our cereal...for real. :)
Even though I still have plenty to do, I decided to clean up a little. I looked at my closet- it looked malnourished. Empty. If you've ever been my roommate, you know that my closet is usually stuffed to the brim. I started gathering all the sad, lonely hangers. I gathered at least 20. That means that at least 20 items were strewn about my house in efforts to make reasonable outfits that don't scream I haven't really done laundry in 2 weeks. I should develop an equation for how many clothes I need to put away if I need to hang up 20 things. It usually means 5 pairs of pants to fold, 2 clean laundry baskets full of clothes to fold, 12 pairs of shoes to put in the closet, etc. That would be a really funny paper to write. If only I had a creative writing class. I'm pretty sure my professors would not accept a paper figuring out an equation for the mess in my house instead of a health program plan and evaluation. :) Anyway...
I can now see the floor. That's progress. See, it's about the simple things. A few feet of my bedroom are now visible. I am an accomplished person. I bet even Mr. Darcy would say so. He'd also call me the most handsome woman of his acquaintance (as long as people in his time did not shower all the time). :)
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