I hate multi-ply toilet paper.
This is mostly because it seems as though I go through it in about two seconds. I swear I bought a 12-pack two weeks ago and I'm on my last roll. And before you ask, it's not why you think it is. I just have a small bladder and an even smaller budget conscience.
In case you're wondering why I'm wasting internet space talking about toilet paper, it's because this is about the only thought I've had today that has much meaning. And THAT'S because I'm sick again. It seems as though colds come in pairs in my old age. Beginning in the head and ending in the lungs. Hello, hacking cough! Nice to see you again!
Also in case you're wondering if the second season of Dexter is better the second time around, the answer is yes. Especially when taken in large doses in rapid succession. And I'm still working on my plans for marrying Michael C. Hall.
The only other vital thought that's crossed my mind today amidst the fog is what I'll do if I actually finish this post. Because I still don't have internet. Or cable (hence the Dexter reruns -- "borrowed" from Buddy Holly on DVD about a year ago). I guess I'm destined to be that creepy girl that stands outside Starbucks at midnight in her pajamas.
I'm pretty sure I could write a book on how to live on a puny budget. Or rather, a budget-indifferent budget. Like how to wash the armpit stink out of your favorite shirts in your bathroom sink. Or how to stretch the last paper products in your home as toilet paper to avoid going to the grocery store (and how to reduce cloggage). Or, when having guests over, how to pick out the best 4-dollar wine and use that Chipotle gift card you got for Christmas on $20 worth of chips and guacamole.
I have done all of these things in the last four days. Most in the last 12 hours, actually. I'm still working on the sink-pit-washing part. The trick is not getting the entire shirt wet and concentrating on the odorous areas.
The problem I have is that I struggle with prioritizing. Between deodorant and new lipstick, GIVE ME CHERRY LIPS. Photographic posterity lasts longer than a few smelly impressions, right? I guess it won't be long before I'm in those pictures alone. I will also go to great lengths to avoid purchasing the following: toothpaste, dishwashing liquid, checks (a feat I had managed for my entire 24 years, until recently), gas, groceries and cleaning products in general. I'm not lazy. I'm just Practically Challenged.
The idea of spending an hour in Jewel deciding between Caesar or Italian dressing oftentimes feels ridiculous, when there is coffee to be drunk and conversations to be had and ideas to be formed. An extra 5 minutes at the gas station becomes an eternity when there is so much Other Stuff to be doing. I think my own unique hell would be as a personal assistant.
And forget being sick. This is the topper on a cake made of shit. Because I cannot stand such a minute thing as my BODY getting in the way of all the more fun things I could be doing. But then again, that's probably the reason why I'm sick in the first place. I can't ignore the fact that my body knows me better than I think it does. And my body's telling me to calm the fuck down, for the time being.
I'm just hoping this isn't the reason humans mate. If it really is just to share errands for one household, I've lost all hope in us. Isn't that what personal assistants are for?