When I got my car last year, I was flexible about some things (make, model) and not about others (good MPG, iPod connection cord and must be shiny). While not totally in love with my car, I'm totally psyched with it's miles per gallon history. I get all nerdy and keep track in a little book at each fill-up. I also seriously consider going 60 on the highways.
When I saw this article in the Washington Post I was very amused.
I am having a lot of fun with this whole "we're getting married" thing. I have a nice red box to keep all of my stuff in and a tricked out binder is on it's way to me. I'm also trying to keep things in perspective. Every once in a while I feel like I may slip into that girl...but then I read about the new trend of asking bridesmaids to get botox for your wedding and I knew I would never be "that girl."
Also, I made a lot of jokes about it when my friend Laurie called. Those girls don't joke.
We've been rockin' the boxes here at the new house since the big move of '08. I'm sure we'll continue to have a close relationship with boxes for some time. Mostly it's fine--it has brought a zen-like lifestyle of not too much stuff.
Today, however, it brought frustration. I need to alter some of the drapes we have decided upon and was ready to jump in after a little procrastination (read: Project Runway watching, TJs going, and prosciutto wrapping). I dove into the box room, found the following items: sewing machine, straight pins, iron and good scissors. I even made a little sewing station. I did not find the pedal/plug that makes the sewing machine go. I have a clear memory of putting the bag with said item into a box that was different than the sewing machine. I even remember thinking that this is a bit of a bad idea.
Now I'm faced with unpacked stuff and long drapes. Grrr.
I cannot fold things neatly (except for sheets). I live with someone who can fold like a champ. He, however, did not work at the Gap.
