if i was your roommate...

...you might get epic texts like this, on occasion.

Dearest roommates, as i sit here in spandex shorts with mud smeared on my legs and dead leaves in my hair, i reflect on my evening of "don't be cranky" distraction techniques. It began with spaghetti, from which i moved on to the gym and a step/abs class that made my arms and legs jello. Then my lungs didn't feel tired, so i thought, let's run a mile on the treadmill. After which i headed home and thought, chairs! Chairs everywhere! And thus i attempted to sweep the porch, and discovered that 3+ years of tree remnants were hiding a thick layer of concrete-dirt and several stray pieces of junk mail. Many moons and trash bags later, i discovered a hose in the shed and decided to "power wash" said concrete-dirt, which resulted in an epic tidal wave battle with only the broom on my side. The broom may have been a martyr, in the end. And then i thought, TOO MANY chairs! And thus i took two unwanteds to the dumpster from which they originally joined our lives and bade them adieu. And then i finished the last of my chair remodels and placed two by the fireplace and two on the freshly "power washed" porch. And thus i sit here, in spandex and mud stains, too tired to feel cranky and channeling any and all angst into appropriate grief for the dear departed broom. (Also, why is no one else home.)

...yes that was all one lengthy text.

arguably irrelevant picture break:

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and unfortunately for you, i am not currently accepting applications for new roommates, as my condo is quite full and i am quite pleased with the current occupants.

also, i learned two lessons last night:
1. i shouldn't be left alone for so many hours
2. or maybe i've finally discovered the key to rampant productivity

power washing like a boss,

katilda

p.s.

the broom may have survived after all.

it was touch and go for awhile there.