|In the event of unholy amounts of overtime, these do NOT suffice in lieu of a shower. No, not even the Chanel.|
Okay, not really. But I *will* have done sixteen hours of overtime by the end of this week, and I’m signed up for eighteen next week. I’m gonna be tired, but my credit-card balance is going to be nearly nonexistent! And I’ll have my emergency fund built back up. It was entirely deflated when my car (henceforth known to my dear readers, as she is to me, as Artemis) had to get a new starter, battery, and… er, headlight/turn signal switch-thingy.
I really should make a note to stop reading the blogs of people who enthuse over their new Balenciaga handbags until after I’m back in the black financially. Which… if I counted student loans, would be approximately once I hit age 47. If I don’t get a mortgage, or have kids, or anything stupid like that! Yeah... so not happening. Will just have to focus on minimalism, investment pieces, wardrobe a la Parisienne (rather than a la Imelda Marcos) etc.
This week, I’m proud that even with my hectic, busy schedule, my apartment still looks pretty much exactly the same as it did last week. Also, weirdly, I’m actually looking forward to doing the laundry tomorrow. God. I’m old!
Actually, I just love my clothes. And they’re dirty. And nobody likes to hang out with the smelly kid, so I guess I gotta wash up before I can look cute. But yeah! Relatively little clutter! Winning!
|CLUTTER! Kill it with fire!|
Pro tip to any other clutterbugs out there, I think there’s something to that line my grandma always says, that if you just make a habit of making your bed daily, the rest comes more easily. Of course, Grandma also thinks I’m going to hell because I’m not a Church of Christ member. Your mileage may vary.I re-uploaded that atrocious video from Tuesday. When Youtube tells you it wants to fix your shaky video, don’t let it! It’s a trap! I’d rather have shaky than headache-inducingly blurry. You can look at my apartment tour vid without dying now.
So yeah. I have piles and piles of photos of my favorite runway shows from NYFW, and now London Fashion Week is on, and I hope to get that belated favorites-of-the-show post up by Sunday. I’m psyched about it, just very busy fixing first-world problems for sweet moolah.
|Not only will I fix those poor schlubs' iPhones! I will look damn good doing it! (scarf is Kirna Zabete for Target. Only twenty dollah!)|
What I’m REALLY psyched about is the fact that I’m psyched about anything! Fellow depressives are totally understanding that one. It feels good to feel something that doesn’t just make me want to go back to that void-place where you wish you could feel. It’s been either sad or just blah for months. Which gets you into this dangerous zone where you’ll try some pretty stupid, self-destructive shiznit just to feel alive for a few minutes. Or else you just sleep for days because well, what’s the difference? But I have an appointment to get back onto my happy pills on the 28th, I don’t have to worry about money right now, I’m going to see my FAVORITE BAND the first week in October, and my job may not be glam, and it may be hectic as hell right now, and yes, everyone’s pissed over the Facetime thing, but I am freakin’ good at this stuff. My stats are off the charts, and I’m mostly handling the stress, which is amazing since I’ve been out of Klonopin for months. *crosses fingers*
Life ain’t bad.