Illin'

So, I've been all nervous about adjusting to life with a boy. Since Geo moved home, though, I've been really sick with a cold, so I haven't been able to really put the energy into being the greatest girlfriend (whoops, fiance) and Little Miss Suzy Homemaker. Tonight, in fact, I banished him to the other room to play Halo while I painted my nails and watched a Girl Code marathon. #firstweekhomefail

Whatever. Yeah, I have a gnarly cold. Like, on Friday and Saturday, I had no voice and I lost about 8 pounds from blowing my nose. It's been quite a roller coaster and I've gone from being depressed and voiceless to being high on cold medicine while dancing in the rain. Ugh. I'm exhausted. And now I am at that almost-better-but-not-quite-good point so no one has any more sympathy for because they think I'm fine, but I'm NOT, you guys. I sneezed like a jillion times tonight.

Now, I hesitate to actually even SAY that I'm sick. Because to me a cold is not "sick", just like a hangover isn't "sick". A person who is hungover or has a cold can still do everything that a human should be able to do, you just, like, don't WANT to. I guess that's how I characterize being "sick". So, whatever, I guess I'm not "SICK" but whatever. I hate having a cold.

Every day with a cold is a fresh hell waiting to punch me in the face the second I wake up. On the first morning I'll wake up with a pounding headache and my back feels like I'm a 100-year-old woman who works as a mover. The next day, the aches will be gone but on day two, it feels like I've swallowed 657 knives and steel wool balls in my sleep. My throat is killing me and I can't talk. Luckily (not), it's also about the same day that the hacking coughs start. Every cough feels like how I imagine it feels to give birth or to get kicked in the you-know-what for guys.

Day three comes with a better throat but everything is just, like, leaking. My eyes are watering, my nose is running, coughs are, uh, disgusting, and I'm sweating in my sleep. It's like everything inside me is trying to escape at once. It's gross, sure, but it's better than day four. Everything is better than day four.

On day four of a nasty cold, your body has just gone insane. You're exhausted but you can't sleep because your ability to breathe like a normal homo sapien is non-existent so you can't sleep for longer than 3 minutes at a time. Either your nose is so stuffed up that you may as well just cut it off or your nostrils take turns just shutting down and ruining your life. Oh, and if you're lucky, there will be a slight but constant whistling that comes peeping through the one working nostril that you have. There is something absolutely torturous about only being able to breathe through one nostril at a time that it drives people absolutely insane, which is why everyone complains nonstop about having a cold. Breathing through one nostril or mouth-breathing turns people into demons, probably because only a fraction of the oxygen we need is getting into our body. I hate day four.

Then the rest of the time, it's just general feelings of crappiness. You can't explain why, but you just feel like your whole head is still full of hot garbage and you're angry because the lingering cold is making it impossible to taste the sea salt caramel/dark chocolate bar you bought to make yourself feel better.

Long story short, I'm still getting over a cold (and yeah, probably a hangover too) and my apartment is a mess. But both of my nostrils are in working order, so I'll call it a win.

Spring "cleaning"

OMG! Geo comes home tomorrow!!! FOR GOOD! I'm super stoked, but I'd be lying if I said I was ready for it. I'm not ready for it, guys. No, I'm not worried about living with him again or getting used to having a guy around again. I'm PUMPED for those things. But this girl has lived alone in a tiny apartment eating noodles off the floor for a year now. I'm not proud of the way I've been living, but I'm the only one who had to live with it and I got pretty used to that.

Like, I take my pants off the second I walk in the door and step out of them, leaving piles of abandoned legwear as my doormat. And I only do dishes when I find myself eating a baked potato with a rubber spatula, a garlic press and a pizza cutter. Empty toilet paper rolls? I'm pretty sure they belong in the garbage, but more often than not, they end up in my shoe closet. My shower is full of bottles of not-quite-empty shampoo bottles. Wounded soldiers.

But so now Geo's coming home and he very gently requested that I clean up my act. And my apartment. I didn't know what to do. I stared at my apartment tonight, looking at my already-packed closets and felt defeated. How could I make room for Geo's stuff when there isn't enough room for MY stuff? Maybe he can keep his stuff in the food cabinets and refrigerator? Those places are almost totally bare.

I got started by packing away a bunch of my winter clothes and stacking boxes of them at the foot of my bed because I couldn't lift them and move them anywhere else. Yeah, a real space saver! I tried moving stuff out of the dresser and into some hanging shelves in the closet, but that only saw a tiny margin of success. Then I realized that I hadn't even unpacked my summer stuff yet. I'm in trouble.

I gave up on my closet because it was actively fighting against me. I moved to the bathroom to try and clear out some space for Geo's minimal amount of products. As I moved some stuff from the bathroom to the linen closet, I kept taking things FROM the linen closet and putting them IN the bathroom. Oooh! I forgot about these multicolored hair extensions! But SOMEHOW I managed to clear out a nice little 4-square-inch spot for him. And you think I'm incapable of compromise.

So I have NO IDEA how I managed to accumulate so many THINGS. How I managed to fit them all in my apartment can only be due to magic. And remember the bag of bags? Well I now also have a box of boxes and several other boxes labeled "MISC". That's helpful.

UGH. I feel like I didn't get nearly enough accomplished to make any real difference. I feel horrible because I really want Geo to move in and be able to feel like this is home now. But how can I do that when I have the smallest apartment in the world and am totally incapable of throwing things out?

Well, I guess I have my work cut out for me. Does anyone know the number for Hoarders?

Minnesota NICE!

So, I know that my trip to Alabummer has likely left you all in a state of curiosity. Was it fun? Was it a bummer? Did I make use of the stupes running shoes and sports bra that I packed? I know, you're all on the edges of your seats. But it was great. Geo graduated, I cried just the tiniest bit when the dean called his name and he swooped across the stage, so proud and accomplished. And still so good-looking. :) It was a magnificent weekend. And yes, I worked out twice.

But the news today is that the Minnesota Senate approved same-sex marriage in Minnesota.

I'm so proud. I really am. I actually cried a little bit. I don't use this blog to post political messages, well, EVER, but this doesn't feel like a political message. It feels like an "ABOUT TIME!" message. Tomorrow, the governor will sign the bill and people all over Minnesota will be able to marry the person that they love come August and it just feels RIGHT. I so am in favor of people marrying the person that they love, and as a girl who is planning a wedding right meow, I feel like I'm in a good place to give some advice to any couple - ANY COUPLE! HOORAY! - who is planning on getting married.

* Everything always costs more than you think it does. Like, 10 times more.
* Planning a wedding is super fun, but it's incredibly hard and stressful and you may or may not call it off 3 or 4 times, but DON'T.
* Suddenly, you WILL care about napkins and chair covers. Even though you promised yourself you never would. Somehow it will suddenly become the most important thing in your life.
* No matter how chill of a person you think you are, you will either say or yell "But it's MY wedding" way more than a normal person ever should.
* Yes. You SHOULD have hired a wedding coordinator.
* There definitely IS such a thing as "too many sequins."
* You will have nightmares and dreams about the wedding. Every single night.
* You will need so much more help than you think you'll need. Don't be rude to friends and family.
* When you get in a fight with family or your fiance or your friends about this detail or that one, remember that you will likely never even notice the thing that you are about to lose friends over.
* It's hard.
* But it's worth it.

So on this auspicious occasion, I want to cry out of pride but also out of stress for all the people who can finally start planning a wedding.

On a serious note, Minnesota (yes, I'm addressing a whole state here) you are my hero and giving people the right to marry is so totally Minnesota Nice. I love you, Minnesota.

Time to Panic Pack!

I'm heading out this weekend to Alabummer to see Geo graduate!! Hooray!!! As excited as I am, I have approx a billion things that I had to do tonight and I have a full work day tomorrow, so I had to pack a little hastier than usual. Here is what my packing process looked like tonight.

PANIC. Pack 4 pairs of jeans. One nice, one casual, one comfy and one long enough to wear with heels. Remember to pack heels.

What's the temp in Alabummer? Maybe rainy, and in the 70s? EASY. Oh wait, no. IMPOSSIBLE.

Is that warm enough for shorts? Do I need those yet? If I pack one nice pair, I have to pack a crummy pair. Better pack a few pairs, just to be safe.

What are we doing while I'm there? Graduation ceremony, evenings with his family, day times relaxing and perhaps meeting important staff members and faculty.

Pack 8 dresses. Various kinds, some nice, some crummy, a few "nights out at the bar" worthy.

Jackets. So many jackets.

Cardigans. So many cardigans.

Flip flops? Yes. Where are they? Still packed away. Oh, hey! I forgot about these cute sandals! Better pack them next to the flip flops.

T-shirts. 100 of them.

Will I work out there? Ugh. I'd like to pretend that I will. Must pack running shoes. Oh, and these adorable wedges will probably have to come too.

I'm so confused! Do I pack a sweatshirt or a tank top?! What does 70 degrees feel like in the South? Fine, bring all the sweatshirts I own and remember to go out and buy 20 tank tops tomorrow to pack as well.

Is there room for my hairdryer? No? Welp, guess I'll have to take out the running shoes...

OMG! I haven't even CONSIDERED boots! Are people wearing boots in Alabummer?! AAAAAAH!

Should I pack my prom dress? What if the graduation is super formal, you know, all "Southern Belle Style"?!  Yes. Pack it. Crap, it doesn't fit. Take out all my socks and underwear. I'll buy some when I get there. Take out jeans and shorts. Replace with more heels. Tuck 45 pairs of sunglasses into the outside pocket, a couple couch cushions in my purse and a soccer ball under my shirt and I think I'm all set!

Do Not Enter...SERIOUSLY!

I have no idea what my deal is. I always manage to live in places where someone somewhere is trying to get all up in my space. I figured that moving to the 6th floor of a building across from a school and down the block from the fancy shopping hub would mean that I'd never have to worry about intruders trying to bum me out. I was in the clear until this last weekend.

Let's be kind and rewind here, shall we? It all really just started after college. I moved into my first apartment alone in Minneapolis. It was a ground-level apartment that was in a relatively safe neighborhood. It was okay until the Great Mouse Invasion. There were mice getting in and it turns out there were drawn to the apartment of my (certifiably) crazy neighbor who hoarded garbage.

Then I moved in with my first male roommates, Perek and Mitch, as a way to escape the mice and crazy. It was a great apartment in the 'burbs and I had my very own balcony off my room that overlooked a small little forest of trees. One morning I woke up to a helicopter trying to land in or near the forest of trees. It was so low and so close that I made eye contact with the pilot. And let's just say that I was not dressed for visitors. So that was a rude intrusion.

When the guys and I moved to the big ol' fancy house in the city and Geo moved in, I was SURE I was in the clear. There were some mice, a bird that came up our back stairwell and neighbors who stole our beer and screamed at each other on the street, but at least I felt safe.

Then I lived with Claire. That was the easiest place to live. Until the cats moved in. Remember the Cat Gate I built to keep the cats out of my room??

Anyway, that brings us to this weekend. Everything was going swimmingly until my neighbors down the hall started getting sketchy. It's a mom and her 2 sons, who are like high-school age but are NEVER AT SCHOOL and their friends always try to get ME to buzz them up, which is just weird. Anyway, then comes Friday night.

Kim had just left when I heard a commotion in the hall. I tiptoed to the peephole and looked out into the hall. What I saw was one of the neighbor dudes with his phone pointed directly at my door and he snapped a picture. I have NO IDEA why he would take a picture of my door, but I immediately got spooked. I felt like my privacy and space was being violated, but I couldn't figure out why. I felt incredibly unsafe, but for no understandable reason.

So I did what I did when I wanted to keep the cats out. I built a high-tech alarm and lock system. Despite the very capable (and multiple) locks that are on the doors in these apartments, I took matters into my own hands and built this contraption.

That's my new Neighbor Gate!

That is a balance ball that is slightly weighted at the bottom, making it crazy-hard to open the door. Then there's an open coin purse full of pennies, a heavy wall hook, a Rubik's cube, my heaviest boots and my purse which is full of heavy, noisy things. If someone was going to break into my apartment, I was definitely going to hear it.

Nothing has happened since that night, and I feel a LITTLE silly setting up various gates every night, but whatever. I guess I wouldn't feel like it was Home if I wasn't irrationally (or not) freaked out by something, right? And let's keep it real...I'm getting incredibly good at building home security systems, right?!

Wrong Way

You guys? Did I ever tell you about the time I inadvertently drove to Illinois? I know many of you may have heard this exciting tale, but I felt the urge to retell it today, with the benefit of years of hindsight.

So, I was visiting my sister Padrin in Decorah, IOWA and was driving back to school in Iowa City, IOWA. This was before GPS. Before smartphones. And before I could read, apparently. I was driving alone, singing to N'Sync or something, thinking about my own stuff. Sources have told me that there was a sign directing me to take a right to stay on the correct road, but no such sign exists in my memory.

Yeah, so I did NOT take a right to stay on the correct road. I was in college and wasn't too good with the whole "paying attention" thing yet. I just drove on, without a care in the world, happy to be driving around with the windows down and good music on.

The trip back from Decorah was taking much longer than I had remembered it taking on the way up there. (I must have made GREAT time on the way here!) There were also a lot more cliffs and rock formations than the farms I thought I had seen on the to Decorah. (Hmm, never noticed that.) I just kept going. Driving further and further away from home base. I crossed a huge bridge that I definitely didn't remember (that's weird) and got a little peek of the Mississippi River, which I also didn't remember. (Maybe it's somehow a one-way bridge?!) On the other side of the bridge, there was a sign that said "Welcome to Illinois". Okay, now I was CERTAIN I wasn't going the right way.

Still, I kept going about 5 minutes out of sheer panic, hoping to somehow cross back into Iowa. I did not. I stopped at a gas station and was BAWLING. I tore in the run-down station and pleaded "OMG, I have no idea where I am! Am I in Iowa anymore?! Is this Illinois?!"

Luckily, no one called the police on the lost girl who was maybe a crackhead. Instead, they showed me a map on the wall (which they refused to let me take with me - rude) and told me how to get back to the right road, which I had left 2 hours earlier. Whoops. The attendant loaned me a couple quarters for me to call my work on the payphone. I should have played it cool, but I said "I'M GOING TO BE LATE TO WORK TONIGHT BECAUSE I WAS DRIVING HOME FROM DECORAH BUT AM NOW IN ILLINOIS! I HAVE NO IDEA WHEN I'LL GET BACK. I DON'T KNOW WHAT HAPPENED OR WHERE I AM."

I eventually made it back to school in one piece. I had learned a great lesson...never drive anywhere ever again. But in terms of the bigger picture, I learned that I frequently take a different/wrong road than I should and what others take. It's just who I am. I will go 2 hours out of my way without realizing it because at the end of the day, I get where I need to be and I have a great story to tell.

But people made a LOT of fun of me after that whole Iowa/Illinois mess. There were funny jokes, mean comments and a lot of road atlases given to me as gifts. But it just kind of sucked because now people figure that I am ALWAYS wrong about directions (and fine, I am a lot of the time) but they have branded me as the girl who drove to the wrong state and never let me forget it.

Anyway, so a bunch of years ago, I was wrong about something. And it still haunts me. I may not be able to find my way out of a paper bag, but it doesn't matter. I've got GPS now. Take THAT, important life skills.

Rehab Addict Addict

In my ongoing efforts to enrich the lives of my readers by telling you what to watch on TV, I bring you this edition of This Is What I'm Watching Because There's a Marathon of Episodes On and It's Still Freezing Outside And You Should Be Watching Too. (I feel like I need a catchier title, but oh well.)

Tonight, I've fallen in love with Rehab Addict. My friend Rachel initially told me about the show and I just so happened to see that there were several episodes on tonight so I curled up on my couch next to my space heater and tuned in.

The show is a home construction-type show, which I usually don't like. I don't HAVE a home to paint or add new fixtures to or rearrange the layout. I have a room with a couch and a TV in it. Plus, my old roommate Mitch and his fiance actually APPEARED on one of these home project shows and I got slightly disillusioned after hearing that all is not exactly what it seems. And they ALWAYS make everything look so much easier than it ever is. False advertising, I say.

So I wasn't all that convinced that I would like this show. It's about a super pretty girl who rehabilitates old, broken down homes. I was like "Ugh...I don't know about this."

But whoops! I TOOOOTALLY love this show! Off the top of my head, here are the things I love about Rehab Addict.

1) The main girl is Nicole - who really is just like TOO pretty - has the most perfect Minnesota accent of all time. She sounds like everyone I know. (The way she says "Ooold brooooken raydiaters" is seriously music to my ears.) She pronounces words very clearly and says "Crayap" just like I do.

2) She rehabs homes in Minneapolis. Like, I KNOW WHERE THE HOUSES ARE. And all that filler footage that these shows have consists of the glorious Minneapolis skyline and other things that I actually recognize.

3) She isn't like butch or overly girly about the restoration projects she does. Sure she has tiny arms, but they could probably snap a marble counter top in half. And you can tell she's serious about the work she's doing because she always has her hair in a ponytail. You don't see her with full makeup and fancy hair until the end of the show when she shows the finished project.

4) So far, all the episodes I've seen consist of single-room renovations in one house (which they call The Dollar House because she actually bought for $1!!). What she does is basically restore a home to it's original beauty. That means a lot of amazing wood floors and stunning details. I LOVE those kinds of homes, and if I ever DO buy a house, I want it to be a Nicole Curtis house. (Not the Dollar House, though, because I'm pretty sure someone was murdered and/or burned alive in there.)

It just now occurred to me that this show might only air in Minneapolis. I hope not, because it is just great. The homes are beautiful, the projects don't look impossible, the helpful tips are ACTUALLY helpful (I imagine) and Nicole is charming without being obnoxious. A truly rare combination.

Um...and? She just built a freakin' fence out of scrap wood and an outdoor bar out of old radiators and I love it. So yes, I'm officially now addicted to Rehab Addict.