Sunday, February 03, 2008

Productive Procrastination, or "Ace of Base makes me want to be a decorator"

Woke up this morning to the sweet, sweet sounds of Ace of Base, and rocked out in my pajamas. When you've gotta dance, you've just gotta dance.

Roommate is gone this weekend, and I swore to myself that I was going to have the Most Productive Weekend Ever in her absence. Instead, I watched 6 1/2 hours of the Home & Garden network on Saturday morning, and was overcome by an overwhelming need to reorganize my closet. Right. Now.

The trouble with organizing closets is that you've inevitably got to find a spot to put all the crud you've been hiding in them. I started out trying to put summer clothes away, and all of a sudden it was almost midnight, and everything I owned was in the living room, including my mattress. These things happen.

Thats the trouble with trying to have a productive weekend these days- there are so many productive things that I've been neglecting in the interest of law school that it's frighteningly easy to procrastinate on school in the guise of being 'productive.'

Calling myself Very Productive and Motivated, I dismantled a bookshelf, threw my apartment into complete disarray, danced around by myself, and moved the bed which Former Boy*, upon assembling it, swore was Never Leaving This Spot. This just goes to show- one should never underestimate the furniture moving powers of an antsy law student. Now that my furniture is where I want it (don't even get me started on the living room), its time to get everything else out of the unholy mess that I've dumped it in in the dining room & hall, lest it blocks me from getting to class on Monday.

On the plus side, the apartment that I had sworn to clean this weekend is at least rearranged, and my deep-seated, angsty need for change in my life is more or less sated...this is much homier than getting tattoos anyway. Next project- the kitchen.

No, I don't want to talk about how incredibly cool spending my Saturday night like this is. Shakira has never seen eyes like mine, and we are going to go dance it off while the coffee brews.

* To Clarify: Former Boy is "former" because we no longer date, not because he is no longer a boy. To the best of my knowledge, he is still, in fact, the same gender he started out with.


All rights reserved to my snotty and generally self-deprecating writing. And if your comments bother me, I'll delete them. That's right, pumpkin.
...How dreary—to be—Somebody!
How public—like a Frog—
To tell one's name—the livelong June—
To an admiring Bog!
-- Emily Dickinson