thought process and decision making

When I walked in the door on Sunday night, I had every intention of putting my apartment back together. And then I walked into my bedroom and saw the laundry baskets and plastic tubs and general disarray, and I thought "Ehh, better not," even though I didn't want all of my belongings on top of the extra bed and in my closet. And by this point I felt mostly sorry for my little rant about homeless week, because the voices in my head—the reasoning, angel-on-your-shoulder kind of voices, not going-batty voices. i think—were telling me that complaining never changes things (although I will admit it made me feel a little better) and that there were way worse, more inconvenient things in life like having malaria or having to move to Singapore or having no belongings at all. 

That being said, I felt too tired to transport all my dishes and pots and pans back into the kitchen, so I laid down on my bed (I had already taken off the desk and printer and step stool and the gallon of distilled water) and waited for my favorite blogger to post her Sunday night post. (A post about my slight obsession with blogs [I tried to portmanteau that into "blogsession," but I didn't think it was clear enough. Nor am I sure that portmanteau can be used as a verb. Actually I'm pretty sure it can't. Tough.] is in the works. I may post it, or I may not. I haven't decided yet.) 

And I texted Liz and Emily and read some emails and uploaded a photo to Instagram and wrote and scheduled some blog posts.

And then I made a dessert grilled cheese, even though it shouldn't be called that because there isn't even cheese on it. It was supposed to be a dessert quesadilla (peanut butter, chocolate chips, and marshmallows in a tortilla that you grill. yum), but I didn't have any tortillas, so I kind of squished a piece of bread and tried to make that work. But then I couldn't call it a quesadilla anymore, and I thought that since grilled cheese and non-fancy quesadillas are kind of the same thing except for the gluten delivery device, I should call it a grilled cheese. And I recognize that it shouldn't even be called a quesadilla because NO CHEESE, but at least it doesn't have cheese in the name.

Anyway. It was pretty good.

I didn't do my dishes, though, because I couldn't find my dish soap. So I left them in the sink to do later.

And then I considered taking a shower, but I didn't feel like fetching my shampoo and body wash and such so I vetoed that idea, which turned out to be a mistake. What planet was I on when I thought that I'd be better equipped to solve that problem in the morning? I can barely figure out which way is up in the morning. The AM and I don't get along so well.

So I decided to just get ready for bed. Most of the stuff I needed was still in my bag from the trip, so I fished that out and then (after a little searching) found my Listerine next to my combat boots in the closet, and THEN I got ready for bed.

And then I wrote in my journal and read some scriptures and called it a night.

So basically I broke my bread and brushed my teeth and went to bed.

(and the smallest one was Madeline)