The Storm's Aftermath

Well it certainly has been an interesting few days here at The Farm  as I become more and more obsessed with completing this challenge.  Every day I try to think of what else I can sort when I get home.  It's getting a bit out of hand but in the best of ways.  Since my last post I've been working intermittently on stuff as I haven't been home all that much.  I did get a new refrigerator delivered this morning.  And that is where this story begins.  Well, actually, it starts about two months ago....

Now, if any of you recall, the US was hit with a freak storm back in June - apparently called a "derecho" - that started in Chicago around lunchtime and by midnight was slamming the Mid-Atlantic.  I stood in my spare room upstairs (I realize...not the best decision) looking out the window as the lightning lit up The Farm in ways I have never seen before.  The wind was blowing the rain in every direction you can imagine.  If I was smart, I would have set up a cot in the basement and slept there.  But what we've learned from this is that I don't always make good decisions.

That storm knocked out power to my house for about three days and a storm later that week knocked it out again for a day.  Once that week was over, my refrigerator was making awful sounds and not really keeping cool.  Also the microwave was shot, but that's another story.  I eventually unplugged the fridge because I couldn't take the grinding noises anymore, then cleaned out and threw away all the contents.  With my job feeding me three meals a day, it wasn't overly necessary for me to have a working refrigerator and I am curious to see what my electric bill is going to be without it.  But as the summer came to a close, it was time.

So I contacted the old landlord to let him know the situation and a couple days later I got a call from the local appliance store to schedule delivery.  How lovely.  But then yesterday evening when I arrived home I realized that throughout this whole project I had been focusing mostly on my bedroom for starters and the mud room was kind of a disaster.

I keep my shoe rack in the mud room for two reasons: A, because my shoes tend to smell on account of how I don't like to wear socks and 2, because when I get home, I like to immediately kick off my shoes before coming inside.  I sorted and organized all the shoes, discarding three pair to the donate bag and four to the trash.  The hardest part was my favorite sneakers...this pair of Sauconys that my dad bought me one year on spring break.  They are quite possibly the most comfortable shoes I've ever worn. I knew it was time, though, when I could do this:

Since the delivery guys would have to come in through the mud room, I knew I needed to do some serious work in there.  And after the shoes were put away (and some mourned) I started tackling the rest of the room.  The first ridiculous thing I found was this half-full bottle of champagne.  If my memory serves me (and it usually does) this is leftover from the mimosas we made on Christmas morning.  IT IS THE END OF AUGUST.

Next up is what is perhaps the most random collection of items to be found in one bag.  A Royal Albert serving platter, a casserole dish, my copy of Breaking Dawn (don't judge), a gladware sandwich container, my favorite pair of flats (been looking for them for a while), my Hester College umbrella (roo roo roo go hogs!), and two bottles of nail polish (Ms. Can't Be Wrong & Ocean Love Potion).  This is my life in a reusable shopping bag.

Speaking of reusable shopping bags, I also found proof that some of them actually are biodegradable!  This bag has been sitting on a shelf in the mud room for approximately 19 months.  Every day, the sun has risen and shone directly in the screen door and onto this bag.  It is falling apart.  I touched it and it crumbled in my hands.  This was a good find!

This one is kind of weird and I am pretty unsure how it ended up here.  A quart-sized ziploc bag full of sweet relish packets.  I don't even like sweet relish all that much.  I prefer dill 100%.  Add this to another of life's great mysteries.

All in all, the mudroom produced a bag full of trash, a box full of recyclables, and a broken down ironing board.  Speaking of that ironing board, I remember visiting my friend Kristin in North Carolina the summer after senior year, going to Walmart and seeing it with the fun blue bubbly cover, and then calling my mother and asking her to go pick one up for me to take to college.  That ironing board has moved 14 times.  It's had a good run.

But what is likely the best find of the entire project up till now is this.  From approximately November 2011-April 2012 there was an awful smell of rotting death that was lingering around my kitchen, living room, and sometimes spreading throughout the house.  Last night, while cleaning the mud room, I moved the snow shovel and found this pile of gooey looking sawdust in the corner.  It was kind of dark in there so I waited till tonight to inspect and clean it up.  I'm not even sure Dr. Temperance Brennan could identify these remains, but I did find what appears to be a mouse arm in there.  It's all cleaned up now, but I am impressed that something so small could cause such a stench for so long.  Well played, Mr. Mouse, well played.

Days to go: 31
Bags to go: 30

A Fond Farewell

I don't like to admit it but I do have hoarding tendencies. My sister would have you believe that I'm next in line for an episode of Buried Alive on A&E. It's not that bad. But I have noticed that I collect a lot of things over the years. Books, kitchen gadgets, and t-shirts.  Tonight, I am going to talk about the t-shirts.  Mostly because of the three bags getting added to the list tonight, two are boring trash in which I found nothing worth sharing. 

But as for the third bag of the day. It's is a bag chock full of t-shirts. The oldest one in the bunch appears to be from senior year of high school. It means that in this bag is ten years of marching bands, special events, travels, gifts, conferences, laughs, and most importantly, good times. Some of them are tattered and torn, others have never been worn.  But since I decided at the start of this week that I would get rid of items of clothing I haven't worn since moving to The Farm, I'm sticking to it.  Luckily I have a future brother-in-law who can make use of these shirts.  And the ones he doesn't want, we'll give away to someone who can use them!

This is potentially going to be the hardest part of this entire project.  I love my t-shirts....even the ones I never wear anymore. I need to be realistic though, as this collection that I'm giving away is approximately half of my total t-shirt ownership. I thought their importance in my life warranted an extra special send-off. So sit back, relax, and try to enjoy three minutes of your life you won't be able to get back.

(PS Thanks to my male model, Boritch Ingabingabinovovitch!) (That's not his real name.)

Days to go: 36

Bags to go: 32

The Shrinking Significance of the Standing Ovation

I am certain I am not the first person to think of or write about this.  I was at an event this weekend during which it seemed like we (the audience) were giving out standing ovations as easily as Halloween candy.  And, the last time I checked, the standing ovation was for someone or something of great significance.  It wasn't just something you did every time someone received an award or certificate of appreciation.  It isn't just this weekend's festivities that got me thinking about this, either.  I've been bothered by it for quite some time.

Let's go back to high school, or even middle school, band.  Only the most spectacular performances were applauded with empty seats.  I remember this happening a lot in college.  Granted, I did spend the majority of my time with music majors and attended my fair share of recitals, concerts, and shows over the course my time there.  But it was there more than ever that I felt I could decide whether or not I enjoyed the performance enough to stand and applaud at the end.  It was there that people really put their hearts and souls into what they were doing, and truly appreciated an honest response to their performances.

I feel that the almost-always-obligatory standing ovation of these days is indicative of the millennial generation.  It's practically required for anything other than the run of the mill.  There's always that awkward, "Do I stand? Do I not stand?" moment.  Because now, it isn't about whether or not you believe the awardee/performer/etc. deserves the additional honor, it's about what everyone else in the audience is doing.

And you know what I say to that?  No more! I will no longer stand when I don't believe it is deserved.  I will be okay with going against the grain.  Who's with me in my quest to restore significance to the standing ovation?

Texting at Random

The other night I got a text from a number I didn't recognize or have stored.  Whenever this happens and the text gives me no clues as to who is on the other end, I like to play games.  This is how it went down:

Random 270#: This is your sister my new number what you doin drive Dowo here if nothing
Me: Where are you?
Random 270#: The brown house
Me: Since when do you live in a brown house?
Random 270#: This is where s i an at
Me: Are you sure you're MY sister?
Random 270#:
Me: I think you typed that in invisible ink.
Random 270#: Lol yes my Birthday card had two girls but the hair was switched up
Me: It's your birthday? Mom didn't tell me!
Random 270#: Huh now your confusing me
Random 270#: Huh
Me: This is my confession: I think you have the wrong number.

Brandi, You're a Fine Girl

I am painfully aware that I haven't posted in a really long time. I am also painfully aware that there is A LOT in life about which I need to update my faithful readers. But this calls for cutting the line because I just can't keep it inside.

I am notorious for choosing to not make big decisions and take care of my life. For example, I moved to Maryland eight months ago and have yet to find a doctor or dentist. So when I dropped my phone in the sink at the Nashville airport last night, I was glad to find that it still worked and I didn't have to get a new phone. Because that would mean having to make a big life decision. But I woke up to the supreme disappointment that the screen was, in fact, on the water damage blitz.

For once, I decided to actually be a big girl (in the grown-up sense, as opposed to the could-use-a-gym-membership sense) and head to the Verizon store tonight after dinner. I took Kashmir along for the ride, and am SO happy with that decision. Because now we have this special moment to reminisce upon for the rest of our ridiculous lives.

We wait for Brandi the customer service associate to look up my info and redirect my number to an old phone for the next month and a half until I'm due for an upgrade. Kashmir and I are deep in our usual absurd chit chat and manage to catch each others' eyes immediately after we both noticed that we weren't paying enough for what Brandi was showing us. So then we had to work really hard to keep up the chatter without completely losing it.

I mean, it's one thing when your boobs are hanging out of your shirt. I've been known to show a little cleavage every now and then. But this was more than cleavage. This was BOOBS. And a sort of dingy white bra. Her shirt was dipping so low we could even see the belly skin below the chest. And it just stayed that way. THE WHOLE TIME.

Oh, my life!

Creeper Magnet

I swear I have a magnet in my head that attracts creepers. Not necessarily directly to me, but definitely to my relative vicinity. In preparation for the wedding tomorrow, Inga and I went to get our nails done. We walked down to the little nail place in town (walking around town is another activity I've completely forgotten about since moving to the DC metro area...) and got started right away.

About five minutes after we walked in, a typical rural Indiana man came sauntering in. I figured he was in the market for a gift certificate or something, because he surely wasn't getting a mani/pedi! He asked one of the employees if he was from Vietnam. When the Asian man said yes, the creeper started in on a list of questions about traveling to Vietnam, getting a visa, how much things should cost there, how long the flight is, etc.

He continues grilling these guys about their home countries, and tells them that he has so many questions because he has never traveled before...never even been on a plane. So I'm wondering why he's choosing Vietnam as his first international travel destination. Through further ear hustlin (I must credit that term to my sister Emily) I learned that he has a girlfriend there. One he met on vietnamcupid.com. (I'll save trying to figure out how he found that website for another post altogether.) And after a year and a half of talking online, he's finally traversing the Pacific to make it real.

Where do these people come from and how do they always find their way into my life? I'm not complaining, though. It keeps it interesting.