March… on.

March is here.  It is now 6 weeks and 3 days until my 30th birthday.  If one were counting those things.

I’m in the begining of redecorating.  And by begining I mean that I have just gotten so tired of looking at my stuff that I have decided to sell it all and start over.  So much of my furniture is stuff that other people have given me, or that I purchased years ago when I first started out.  You know, when a $100 entertainment center that was made of pressed wood was a pretty fancy investment for me.

I’m hoping to declutter and minimize.  In all aspects of my life.  I’m so busy at work, that I need to figure out some better time management stuff there as well.  I still absolutely love my job, which is awesome.  It makes getting up every morning so much better!  Now, if only I could get back my same zeal for getting up and getting on the treadmill before work. 

I’d like to pretend that my love for my job is so much that I’d rather just jump out of bed and drive straight there.  More likely, it is my love for my bed that makes me stare at the alarm clock while contemplating just how “in shape” I really want to be.  It’s funny that at 5:00am you can give yourself a great pep talk:  “you’re beautiful the way you are.  you don’t need a treadmill.  who cares if you can’t fit into those jeans, they were ugly anyways.  it’s about what is inside that counts…”  Any other time of the day, this would not happen.  But when you feel like you left arm has hypothermia because you left it out of the covers all night, you suddenly have greater motivation to appreciate yourself, and your warmth, and your bed. 

At home, I just have too much stuff.  Stuff that I know I have, and some stuff that I don’t know I have.  I need to start making trips to goodwill, friends houses, or when it gets nicer outside put more stuff on the curb.  My neighborhood is really great at making things disappear if you leave them on the curb.  Whether you want them to disappear or not :)  So, I choose wisely.  It’s kind of like an offering to the neighborhood peeps.  Here, you can have my old dressers, if you promise not to break into my house and try to steal something I actually care about.  Thank you :)

I spent the weekend with great friends, having great times and celebrating new beginings!  I danced and danced.  It was awesome.  I haven’t danced like that in a very long time.  This was a good thing since it kept me busy and less annoyed by all the increasing drunkeness around me.  Well, that is until the little fella on the dance floor tried to dance with me.  I poked him in the chest and wagged my finger “no, no”.  His response?  To pull up his shirt and start slapping his own belly.  I felt like I had thrown a banana into the primate exhibit at the zoo.  I wasn’t sure what message he was trying to convey, but it came across as “not only am I short, a bad dancer, a bad dresser, and under the influence of something that makes me delusional… but I’m also from a tribe of cannibals that worships King Kong”.  At least, that’s the story I got from the belly slapping.

I am finally insured again, so I can have all my necessary appointments, starting with my dental cleaning today.  When I realized when my cleaning was, I started flossing.  That was about a week ago.  This is a weak attempt to feign shock when they ask how often I floss.  “Well, I have been flossing every day (for the last week) and using mouthwash to keep my gums all healthy (like, this morning) and would never skip a brushing (like if I had an impromptu sleepover after an impromptu happy hour).  *Smile*

Well, back to work.


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