9:45 a.m. - 2004-09-20
I Am Karma, Watch Me Rock
Karmically speaking, I am a force to be reckoned with.
Yesterday, I was lazy. I had to work, but that didn't change the fact that I was lazy. While I was sitting here, churning out emails, Darren took it upon himself to spend his day off cleaning the whole house. I mean, it's still cluttered, because you've got two pack rats living together. But he vacuumed everywhere, picked up all my knitting crap, moved all my shoes, and (drumroll) tackled the master bedroom.
Let me tell you a little something about how scary that master bedroom is - and believe me, this is only a teensy keyhole-peep into the terror, for which I don't think you guys are ready:
Rewind 7 years, to 1997.
I'm living alone in the ghetto (in the ghet-tooo).
I've just lost 120 lbs on the Atkins diet.
I'm making around $7.42 an hour and I'm a chain smoker.
I'm a size 16 person wearing size 28 clothes. Even my underwear are falling off.
Because I'm a smoker, my cigarette budget trumps my clothing budget.
I steal a few pairs of my sister's jeans and wear those under my size 28 shirts, because shirts can't fall off but pants can.
1998
I get a new job, which pays more.
I buy more clothes that fit.
I amass hand-me-downs from other people, and my family gives me clothes and gift certificates for Christmas.
1999
I get married, I quit the Atkins diet.
I start to gain weight back.
I realize that when you lose weight, you can always wear big clothes - but when you gain weight, you physically cannot occupy the insides of smaller clothing articles.
2000-03
I keep gaining weight, I get back up to size 28, I lose some weight again, get back down to size 22, gain that weight back, go up to size 36...at which point I have weight loss surgery
and I lose
weight again
and while I'm not fitting into the size 14-16 jeans, I still have them, along with every other shirt, pant, short, bra, panty, and pajama that has fit me over the course of the past 7-8 years. Minus, of course, the three measly garbage bags full of clothes that I gave to the VietNam Vets a few weeks ago.
There isn't enough room in the dresser and closets for all the clothes I have. I like to pretend there's not a problem with owning more pieces of clothing that don't fit vs. pieces that do, because that gives me time to focus on more pressing matters, like knitting and swimming and inline skating.
Yesterday, with no warning, my husband just walked in there and started cleaning. NO FEAR. He vacuumed, he made a gigantic waist-high pile of clothes to be washed, and all I have to do is help launder it and figure out - one load of laundry at a time - if the clothes stay or go.
Back to the karma. Now that you understand how much karma should be against me for letting this epic mess accumulate over the years, and then sitting idly by while my husband takes care of it for me (yes, I was working, but I could have helped on my breaks!), here's the amazing thing:
I hear the dryer stop and Darren pulls the load out, so I rush into the laundry room to put the wet laundry in the dryer and fill the washer again. It's the first actual step I've taken all day toward being "helpful", right?
I throw a pair of jeans into the dryer and a couple of wet, soggy bills fall out! I made $15 just by switching the laundry around! W00t! I checked the pockets of all the other pants as I put them into the dryer now, because most of these pants have been lying around at the foot of my bed for months, and now I know Darren didn't check for change when he threw the stuff into the washer.
I found another wad of wet money. Guess how much was there. I'm serious, you should guess. I'm already up to $15 at this point. Just take a gander. Because are you ready for this? Another two hundred and thirty-five dollars were in my jeans.
Which makes a total of $250.00 that I made yesterday, despite being about as helpful as a ball of earwax. It's like I won the lottery... only, with my own, forgotten money. And yes, I'm hanging onto it for now and using it for bills/groceries. :)
Two hundred and fifty dollars. [pinky]
Changing subjects briefly - I went around the lake twice today on my skates, but I was tired and hadn't eaten anything. By the time I got back to the car I was so pooped I just wanted to nap. I sat there for a good 10 minutes before I even took my helmet off, let alone the skates and wristguards. I was sucking down water so fast I thought I might throw up [note to anyone who hasn't had weight loss surgery: smaller stomach means NO GULPING, always sipping, even when you feel like gulping, because your lil pouch can't handle that much at once].
Or maybe I was just lazy and thirsty; I dunno. I eventually took everything off and came home, warmed up some chicken nuggetses (4) from last night, and ate those. Now I'm stuffed. After 4 chicken nuggetses. Remind me about this, the next time you hear me complaining about how much my stomach seems to have stretched.
A realization occurred last night while we were watching Voyager: I have two stomachs, just like a Klingon.
Not like a cow.
Although, I suppose the cow analogy would be more appropriate, given the frequency with which I throw up and how much chewing I have to do.
Damn.
Also, I've lost another 4 lbs. I updated the "so far" box. Which means I'm down 114 lbs and up 250 wet dollars. OK, they're dry now, but they were soggy. We put them on top of Elvis's terrarium to dry.
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