Two Hours Wasted!

I'm pissed. I sat in traffic for two hours today. TWO. FREAKIN. HOURS. (Ok, more like an hour forty-five, but I'm rounding up, 'cause it might as well have been two hours.) It typically takes me about thirty minutes to get home. I could probably get home faster if there weren't so many slow ass people on the road. Or stop lights. But whatever.

I'm so irate. Boiling.

And all I could do was sit there. I couldn't pack my lunch for tomorrow. I couldn't get my daily physical exercise out of the way. I couldn't do a load of laundry. I couldn't shower. I couldn't declutter my room a bit. I couldn't do shit, but sit there and listen to bad music on the radio. Sure, I talked on the phone for a bit, but people got tired of hearing me complain about how I only moved a quarter mile in ten minutes, so conversations didn't last so long. My whole evening got pushed back and some things had to be rescheduled, such as taking stuff to the post office, since by the time I got close to the post office, the last mailout of the day had already been sent out.

Alright. Enough negativity and complaining.

No, sorry, I'm still really mad. So let me go on to another annoying episode. Let me set this up for yall. My bedroom is in another back area of the house, far from my roommates, as in when you get to the top of the stairs, there's his door to the left - BOOM - and then you take a right through the loft space, another right down the hall, all the way down to the end of the hall and my door is the last one on the right. There's no need for my roommate to come near my room. I get that it's his house and he can go/do whatever he pleases, but really there's no reason for him to be near it.

Moving on, more set up, the way we work out the mail thing is one of us decides to walk to the mailbox, pick it up, bring it back to the house, sort through it separating each other's mail and then leave the other's stack on the kitchen counter. Simple, right?

So the other day I get home from work, having not enjoyed my day, I just want to go to my room, strip off my work clothes, put something comfortable on and relax. So I do all of the above. My door is pretty much closed, not shut completely, but maybe like an 1/8 inch is left opened, not exactly something that says, "hey, come on it, let's chat." I'm on the phone when I hear the slightest knock at the door. I'm not even sure I heard it, so I say, "who's there?" - ridiculous question, I know - and then I correct myself and say, "come in." My roommate opens the door, standing in his gym clothes and a big comforter wrapped around him, laughs at me for saying "who is it?" and then proceeds to hand me my mail. I say thanks and he turns back around and closes the door behind him.

What the hell?

And the kicker: It was one piece of mail. And it wasn't even anything special like a package. It was my bank statement. That's it. That's all it was. Nothing big. Nothing he couldn't have left for me on the kitchen counter. So odd.

Complaining over.

No Chips Screws Everything Up

I left my chips at home on the kitchen counter, which means my sandwich sucked without it, which equals to bad day. I just need to go home, climb back into bed, sleep for the next 20 hours and try again tomorrow.

Laziness is the Mother of Invention

I've had this idea for awhile, at least for a year, and every time I see a toddler being pushed around in stroller, it really makes me wish it existed: adult strollers. Graco, get on this.

I'm kinda lazy. I get tired of walking around the mall or amusement parks or fairs or Wal-Mart. Yeah, at first, I'm kinda ok with walking, but then I get over it. Don't get me wrong. I thank God every day that I have legs I can use, but at the same time I also enjoy sitting down. I miss the days of yore when my mother would push me around in a stroller or even in a grocery cart, which the last time was probably about five years ago, maybe four. (I'm not joking about that last part. You probably thought I was, but no I'm quite serious.)

I know what you're thinking: adult strollers already exist; they're called wheelchairs. Yes, I know this, but wheelchairs have a negative connotation about them. They imply a lapse in health or functionality. The adult stroller should have a hipper, cooler feel about it, almost sporty. It should say, "yeah, I could walk, but why?"

Lunch

Yesterday I had a meeting in Kyle, Texas. On the way back my group decided to stop and eat at The Gristmill restaurant in Gruene (pronounced green). I had never eaten there, but it was on my list of places to go, so I was more than happy it was our chosen lunch spot. I sat at a table with three other girls, all of who ordered some sort of salad and/or soup. Um, yeah, guess what I ordered: the chicken fried steak. Yep, I felt so butch. Whatever, I love a big hunk of meat. I wish someone could serve me up a nice piece of meat daily. Plus, I'd been wanting a good chicken fried steak for two years now. No, that's not an exaggeration. "Must eat a good chicken fried steak" has been on my list of things to do also. The one I ate yesterday was pretty good, but I don't know that I can say it's the best. Therefore, the search continues for a better chicken fried steak.

The other great thing about eating at the Gristmill is that it's right next door to Gruene Hall. I swear when we turned down the street and I got my first glimpse of the old dance hall, my heart raced a little. I've never been there either, but it's another place on my list to visit. I stuck my head in for a second, but I think to truly appreciate it, I need to go when there's a band playing. Therefore, back on the list it goes until I can officially cross it off, which will be when I can two-step to a live band and drink a beer there.

Moving on, I brought my lunch to work today like I usually do. Sometimes people invite me to lunch and I say, "Nah, I brought a sandwich" and then they kind of make a face like "too bad." Really, it's not a bad thing at all. My sandwiches are bad ass. I think I've mentioned this before but, I eat turkey with colby/jack cheese on wheat bolillo rolls. I also pack limon flavored potato chips and before every bite of sandwich I stuff a chip in between and shake on some Louisiana hot sauce and yummy. As my brother Steven would say, "this is pretty good shit." Some days, I add an avocado to the mix. When I used to not work my sandwiches were so much better, 'cause everything I mentioned above (rolls, turkey) were toasted in a pan, thus making the cheese melt perfectly. It rocked. Ok, is this sad that I'm this excited about a sandwich?

It's Official: I'm Debt Free

Yep, dunzo with the debt. Well, credit card debt at least. I still have a little under $3,000 for a student loan (which has taken me longer to pay than the damn year it was applied to - one year, I'm telling you) and my car payment (but doesn't almost everyone have a car payment?).

How I got this debt? I'll tell you. The computer I sit at right now was purchased with my credit card. It was my ex-boyfriend Dustin's idea to get the computer. In the beginning, together we paid $200 a month to pay it down. Then I grew tired of him and I knew it wouldn't last, so I offered him the couch (something we paid for together and was worth half the cost of the computer) and allowed him to stop contributing to payments for the computer. Finally, we broke up, but I realized living on my own was not as easy as I thought. It made it difficult to apply such a large monthly payment to the card to pay it down. Then I became unemployed. Goodbye health insurance, yet hello to standing doctor's appointments that were necessary to keep, thus were charged to the card. Yeah, newsflash: doctor's visits and prescriptions without insurance are super expensive. Throw in the fact that my monthly payments were only $5 more than the minimum balance due and the fact that I would occasionally charge a dinner out with friends, I pretty much got into a financial rut.

Upon getting my new job and finally getting back on my feet, I got serious about paying this debt off. It truly was weight on my shoulders. In order to pay it off, I knew I wouldn't be able to do it living alone. That was a huge decision to make: get a roommate and pay it off sooner or continue to live alone and take much longer to get it done. I wasn't getting any younger and having the debt was really infringing on my fun. I felt like I couldn't do anything, go anywhere 'cause instead of spending money on fun, I thought I should be applying it to the debt. So I moved.

My plan was to pay off the debt by Fiesta (that's the end of April for you folks who don't live around these parts). I don't know why I chose that as the goal date, maybe because I didn't want to feel bad spending money on Fiesta festivities. Plus, it was right under six months from the time I moved.

Two big things that helped me out: my Christmas bonus (basically a whole other paycheck - woohoo!) and my tax return. I really, really wanted to use some of that money on something new for myself, but I knew nothing would really mean as much to me as becoming debt free.

Other smaller things that helped: my insane discipline to pack a lunch for work and not buy new clothes, go to the movies or whatever - just the necessities, not going on vacations (ever), not continuing to charge to the credit card (obviously if I had the money in my checking account to buy something, there was no need to charge it), being pretty enough with a great personality that guys would buy me drinks at the bar (didn't always work- what a blow to the ego), and of course having good friends who were considerate enough to cover my bill occasionally.

With 36 days remaining until Fiesta, I'm done. I'm finally debt free. Clap for me!

Not Quite Farrah Fawcett

Alright, here's my hair in all it's glory. It's not quite Farrah Fawcett ala Charlie's Angels, but it's still ok by me. Turns out my messed up bangs were interfering with the proposed style. My stylist did what she could and this is what I got. She suggested adding a shade of lighter brown, but if you ask me it looks red not light brown. Whatever. I'm ok with it, although it is an adjustment to not see my hair all one color.










Thoughts? Comments?

It's True: Shampoo Works

Yesterday I come to work and I don't hear so much as a peep out of my coworkers on my haircut or added color. (Yes, color!) And not that I need that kind of validation, but c'mon one person could've commented, "There's something different about you." But no, not a word.

Last night was shampoo night in my bathing cycle. For anyone who's only begun to read my blog, Bev only washes her hair like every other day or two, usually two. Yeah, so since I washed my hair last night it's extra full and bouncy today. Suddenly, people are taking notice.

"Did you do something to your hair?"

"Your hair looks great."

"I like you hair. Did you change something?"

Finally, a little recognition! Not that I need it, but I'm just saying...

[Pictures to come. By the way, has anyone besides my parents been having trouble viewing the pictures I've posted lately? Ever since I was forced to use the new Blogger I've had issues with this. Let me know.]

The Frenzy

My weekend was spent cleaning. Well, not the whole weekend. I did go to a baby shower, but yall don't want to hear about those details. No, seriously, you don't. Once you've been to one baby shower you've been to them all. In fact, when my time comes around, I'm not gonna have a "baby" shower, but instead a "beber" shower, where everyone drinks. Yes, wait for your invitation in the mail. (But don't hold your breath, it may be a long wait.)

Saturday after the shower, and after I took some Aleve, and after I took a late nap, I woke up and got this urge to clean and organize. I sorted through my laundry and threw in a load of my casual clothes (i.e. the clothes I wear around the house or to exercise in). While those were in the wash, I decided it would be the perfect night to get my plastic water bottles I've collected and stashed in my closet and throw them in the the recycle trashcan in our garage. See, they have this new trash pickup ordinance in our neighborhood, where they only pickup trash on Tuesday and recyclables on Friday. Um, did yall notice that: they only pick up trash once a freakin' week. I really can't complain. You would think having two people in one house would make for enough trash, but oddly enough it doesn't. However, if I was a family of four, I don't think I would be happy.

Moving on, I go through water bottles like...well, water. And they were just piling up in my trash can, taking up precious waste space. I was having to empty my bedroom trashcan like every three days it felt like. So after seeing all my neighbors participating and actually rolling out their recycling trashcan to the curb, I thought, huh, maybe I should recycle all that plastic. Thus, began the collecting of empty water bottles in my bedroom closet, which brings me to Saturday night when I finally took them downstairs to the garage. It made me so happy to toss all these plastic bottles in there that I started going through our trash to find other stuff to throw in the recycle trashcan. All I found was a milk carton and a laundry detergent container. Eh, good enough.

That was my exciting Saturday evening.

Sunday I woke up late, hung around in bed while I talked on the phone. After I hung up, again I got the urge to do some cleaning. I stripped my bed sheets off and threw them in the wash. While the wash was going, I started going through my drawers and closet and taking out clothes I no longer wear. I do this about once a year. These are the moments where I have to suddenly get real with myself and ask, "Seriously, are you ever gonna wear this again?" No, is usually the answer. Although there were some items I was really on the fence about. I kept thinking to myself, "well, what if one day I have to go do some work at the ranch? I'll need an old shirt to work in." Ok, number one, no one in my family has a ranch anymore, so when the hell am I gonna go work on it? Two, even if I had to go work at the "ranch," do I not already have plenty of work clothes to work in? Three, why the hell am I working at the ranch? I have brothers, why can't they do it? I read once in an article on organization that when you find difficulty parting with an item, you should ask yourself what it is you think you're losing by giving it away. See, this is what I'm talking about when I say I have to get real with myself. In the TOSS pile it went.

After eliminating some items from my wardrobe and reorganizing the drawers, I moved on to my next task: dusting. I hate this. I hate this so much. I think it's cause I dusted so much as a child. But it had to be done. There was a thick layer of dust on everything in my room. Everything got dusted: my bed, my dresser, my TV, VCR, DVD player, my desk, my computer and then finally, the mother of all things dusty in my room, the ceiling fan. Ick. And of course after dusting, came vacuuming. I even vacuumed the bed. I was worried maybe dust from the fan landed on the mattress. After that, I was finally able to put clean sheets on my bed.

But I wasn't finished yet. I organized my desk, getting rid of a lot of unnecessary paperwork and other things that had began to add to the clutter, which led me to updating this Excel spreadsheet I created back when to save and organize everyone's phone numbers. I eliminated some numbers I no longer dial and don't plan to dial and I added others that had been sitting in my cell phone. I want to be prepared should it ever got lost, stolen or broken (not that I'm anticipating anything bad to happen). I have most of my friends' numbers memorized, but there are those few numbers I can't lock down to memory. Also, should I die, I think the list will come in handy for the one in charge of calling friends and family to let them know I'm gone. For good. (Not that I'm anticipating that to happen either, well at least not now.)

And after all that, all I wanted was to reward myself with a burrito bol from Chipotle, but just my luck it was pouring down rain hard, so I wasn't able to leave the house. Boo.

Ok, so how many of yall actually read through this whole post about cleaning? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Dammit! This Always Happens!

I had stuff to tell yall, like good, funny stuff. That was earlier when I was at work, but now I'm home and all my creativity has escaped me. Go figure. So I'll have to ramble on about other BS.

Walking. That's what I've been doing this past week. I'm kinda over riding my stationary bike, for now at least. It's hard. I have to come home and find something interesting on TV to distract me for the whole 20 minutes I ride it. And guess what? There's never anything interesting before 7pm, but if I wait til after 7 pm then that's too much time wasted. That means my shower time is delayed. My dinner time is delayed. My blogging time (if I so choose to blog, that is) is delayed. Anyway, now that it's getting warmer and now that the sun is staying out a bit longer (oh, boy, how I will rejoice come this Sunday - I've been blessed with Daylight Savings Time coming 3 weeks sooner) I'm able to walk through my neighborhood. And I walk fast. I'm talking old lady walking thru the mall fast. Yep, that's fast. 'Cause I don't jog. Jogging is for overachievers. I like to maintain the status quo, so I walk. But like I said, I walk fast. And it hurts. I mean, my calves burn, burn, burn. I don't know if I'm working anything else, 'cause all I can feel are my burning calves.

Diet. It's called the I'm-too-lazy-to-go-downstairs-to-make-something-to-eat diet. I'm not joking. I'm seriously that lazy. Once I get home and settled, I pretty much close myself up in my room. It has all the amenities I need. TV? Check. Computer? Check. Toilet? Check. Peanut butter? Check. And while the thought of a meal sounds appealing, getting myself down the stairs to make it doesn't. I pretty much convince myself that once I fall asleep I won't even be able to feel the hunger pangs.

Haircut. Tomorrow I go see my hair lady to get my, wait for it, hair cut. Remember these stupid bangs I tried to sound semi-positive about? Yeah, well they sucked. I couldn't stand them! With little or no makeup I looked like Ugly Betty, or make that Ugly Beverly. (When I made the Ugly Betty reference to my father, bless his soul, instead of laughing like he was supposed to - 'cause hello, it's a joke - he disagreed saying, "You're not ugly, mija.") Even though the bangs are now a little bit longer, they still annoy me. I guess I learned my lesson: no more letting amateurs cut my hair, particularly the hair that crowns my face. Oh, and no more cutting my hair out of boredom. Yep, those are the two lessons learned for sure this time. And tomorrow I will not be taking any pictures in for my hair lady to try to imitate. Nope. Instead I will tell her to give me a modern day twist to the whole Charlie's Angel Farrah Fawcett hairdo. No, I'm not kidding. I think it's a cute cut and will be fun for spring. Don't try and talk me out of it either. (Unless you think I'm making a horrible mistake, then yes, please say so.)

Medicine Cabinet. Thought you might like to take a look, ya know, 'cause people are always so interested to see what other people keep in their medicine cabinets. I've got no secrets to hide. Take a peek.

Top shelf: NIOSA cup where I store all the floss from the dentist's office, Certain-Dri deodorant and regular Secret deodorant, Vaseline, some Clean & Clear to keep things clean and clear, some lotion I never use, and some Herpicin-L for those times I get those pesky cold sores.

Bottom shelf: my Systane eye drops, my contact solution, my contact case, my meds (including Aleve and my multi-vitamin) and my toothbrush (and don't think anything of it that I have two toothbrushes, I have a perfectly good explanation for that).

Thinking

I'll try not to strain myself.

Geez, Woodrow, cut a girl some slack. I've got lots of things on my mind and not all of it has to do with my high school boyfriend. Work is stressing me out, but of course I can't talk about that here, 'cause I think everyone knows the cardinal rule of blogging: if you blog about work, your ass will get fired. Not that I really want to talk about work anyway. There's more to Bev than her nine to five.

So due to changes out in the blogging world, I've updated my links to the right there. Rachel moved her mimsies and Cheryl is off in places never planned. Plus, I still had Okie on there, so I had to revise that and add in some others. If I didn't add you, I'm sorry, but that's enough blogkeeping for a while.

Now let me be with my thinking and when I feel up to it, I'll post something.