Decluttering

I got rid of a ton of clothes. A drawer full of pajamas (I don't even wear pajamas. I sleep nak- um, I wear a T-shirt and shorts), about thirty tops including a load of huge-black-metal-concert-tees and some things that never really fit right, around eight pairs of jeans, some sweaters, loads of socks and underwear, some five pairs of footwear, and I still have loads of clothes.

Where does it all come from??

I mean, I gained a few items, too, because my sisters decluttered their closets at the same time. So I got some hand-me-down jackets and sweaters, some tops, and a skirt (for funerals, because I do have this one other black skirt, but it's a flouncy miniskirt and I'm not sure that other funeral attendees would appreciate it).

And I realize that sounds counter-productive, but some of these things are clothes that I lusted after for years. My sister's "I love you very mush" sleeveless hoodie shirt, for instance, which has four little mushrooms on the front. Or this one green jacket she bought in Europe.

Oh, and the jeans I got rid of– I was a size 3 in high school, apparently. Holy crap!

Before giving it all away to our housekeeper (who has lots of daughters and grandchildren to give clothes to), we went through it all with our cousins so they could pick out whatever they might want. They all went home with a few things and we were happy knowing that this stuff is going to loving homes. I mean, most of it is in really good condition, plus it's good quality, brand name stuff.

My cousin took this shirt by mistake and was about to make off with it. I was all, nooooooo! Get away!!

Although there were a few times when certain items were hard to let go of. One of my cousins was looking for clothes to make crafts out of, rather than wear: "Hey! This skirt would make a great cushion!" My eldest sister's eyes shot wide open and her mouth formed a tiny, horrified "o". Later that night I saw her wearing the skirt in question and telling my aunt, "She wanted to sew it into a cushion. This skirt, a cushion!"

Good morning

I set my alarm for 9 AM. It's a good time to wake up during the holidays, as it's neither early nor terribly late. When you wake up at 9AM, it's already light out and you don't feel like you're getting up into a dark, lonely world. You don't lie in bed for a while wondering what to do. The day has already started and it's the right time for going downstairs to fix yourself coffee and breakfast.

"9AM," I thought last night as I set my alarm, "that's a good time to get up tomorrow. I'll get nine whole hours of sleep."

I woke up at 7:30 and couldn't get back to sleep. Typical.

What is up with that? One of my resolutions for this year is to sleep more, but how do I do that if my body won't let me? Adolescents are supposed to get nine hours of sleep, but short of taking meds, I don't know how I can do that. I'm on holidays! Why can't I sleep more?

Also, it's really bugging me that I have these bags under my eyes that won't go away. I put concealer under my eyes so that they won't freak people out. Whenever I forget or don't have time to wear makeup, people take one look at me, remark that I look tired, and ask me if I'm okay or if I pulled an all-nighter.

I've always looked tired, even when I was, like, eight years old. You just couldn't tell so much before because I wore glasses.

Ao anyway, I got up at 7:30, stretched a bit, put on some music, read some blogs, danced around a bit, drank some water, took a body test on the Wii Fit and fixed myself a coffee.

I'm too lazy to use the coffeemaker very often, so by "fix myself a coffee" I mean "heated up my leftover tea from last night, plus some extra water, and put it in a mug with some instant coffee. Also milk."

Speaking of which, my sister and I have recently switched from drinking low-fat milk to whole milk. For as long as I can remember, my family's always had low-fat milk. My cousin said it was like drinking insipid, white water and I thought she was exaggerating… until I tried some whole milk in my coffee. After years of drinking 2% milk, drinking whole milk feels like drinking cream.

When I get used to whole milk, I intend to start melting butter and stirring that into my coffee.*

Coffeeeeee.

*Just kidding. OR AM I?

Seven: a memoir

When I was in second grade, we were learning to multiply in school. So, for a while, our daily homework was to learn one of the times tables. A new one each day, working our way up from 2 to 10.

Now, I've always been lazy. In kindergarten I never did my homework unless I deemed it a fun assignment. And in second grade, that still happened if I felt I could get away with it. It was fine when we were multiplying in 2's and 3's, but it got harder to fake as the number grew bigger. I'd sit in class while everyone around me recited "Six times seven, forty-two! Six times eight, forty-eight!" and I'd sort of mouth along with them. I was probably a bit nervous about getting called on, but not enough to want to study.

Eventually, my parents found out that I was slacking off. They were not amused. A laminated poster was purchased with the times tables on it, my mom made flashcards, and the pièce de résistance was a horrible educational CD procured from some dark corner of horribleness. The CD claimed to teach kids math… with rock music! I remember hating it: the stupid-sounding character (called Mr. Rock or something to that effect*), the bad music, the feeling of condescension that emanated from it all. Mr. Rock would recite the times tables (too fast for me to glean any nuggets of wisdom) and ask his listeners– his buddies– to join in!

Since the CD wasn't bad enough in itself, my sisters mocked me for it as well. In fact, my cousins were visiting a few weeks later and they made fun of me, too, when they found the CD. I hated that CD.

Yuck.

Anyway, my parents made me sit on my bed and learn the times tables using all the study aids they'd showered upon me. So I did, sort of. That was the day my class had been sent home with the mission of learning the seven times table. So that's what I focused on: seven times four is twenty-eight. Seven times five is thirty-five. Seven times six...

Now, I didn't study the six times table, or the four times table (the fives time table is easy, as we all know, and not worth mentioning). What for? Those had been covered on previous days and I'd never be quizzed on them again! No, I studied the seven times table, learned it by heart, recited it to my folks, and thus convinced them that their deed was done.

The same dedication did not go into the eight or nine times tables on following days: I slacked off one those, too. But I'll be damned if I didn't master the seven times table. And here's a little secret: to this day, I have to stop and think for a second when I'm multiplying small numbers... unless there's a seven involved.

I'd thank my parents if it weren't for that stupid CD.**

* I looked it up; it's "Professor Relamido". As in, musical notes: re-la-mi-do

** Which you can buy on iTunes. Don't, though.

Resolutions

I haven't thought these through, but here goes:

Form these habits:

• Dink 2 liters of water a day (more when exercising, obviously)
• Lie down and listen to podcasts* when I'm stressed
• Floss most days
• Go to bed early**
• Wash my face before bed
• Lose arguments more often (i.e., stop needing to be right all the time)

Break these habits:

• Eating as soon as I get home even if I'm not hungry
• Eating before bed***
• PROCRASTINATION!!

Do these things:

• Run two races.
• Throw out/give away/get rid of 60 things in my bedroom (i.e., declutter)
• Get a 10 in Parasitology
• Redecorate my room****

* Such as: Definitely Not The Opera, Vinyl Cafe, Ideas, Quirks and Quarks, This Week In Parasitism, The Age of Persuasion, etc.

** I'm planning to still take afternoon/night classes, so... be in bed before midnight, most of the time.

*** I now suffer of reflux (ew) when I eat big-ish portions, and I do not want esophageal cancer!!

**** Put up a painting or something, at least.