My Boyfriend's Foot Is On My Shoulder Like a Silent Stinky Angel

He really is a sad thing when he isn't feeling well, which is why I'm allowing it. I would like to note, however, that he is only about two days behind me in the same cold, and he's getting much more sympathy than I received. Poor thing. 

Oh, there's so much that's happened, and so much that has stayed the same. Let's see. Nick and I both are now 22, which is exciting but kind of a letdown after turning 21 and being allowed to drink. What are we allowed to do at 22 that we couldn't do before? Say we're a year older, I suppose. 

Presents! Presents happened, they were lovely. We had birthdays and then Christmas, and now I can't think of anything else that we either need or want. (Lies. There's always more want.) Our kitchen is not wonderfully full of all kinds of gadgets. Which is good for us, but bad for my waistline. 

We spent hours opening these presents. It was fabulous!

Santa wrote my cousin Adam a letter, complete with sparkly snowflakes and a Rudolph. Santa likes sparkles. Katie likes sparkles. ^_-

It was a good Christmas. We returned via the sardinemobile and were happy to be home . . . and then promptly fell sick with a cold, which returns me to my poor sick boyfriend and his feet. 

We both felt kind of icky and so stayed home for New Years Eve. 

(TANGENT: Have you seen that How I Met Your Mother episode where the group of friends goes out to a club and they explain the differences between singles and couples? About how singles move around and get drinks and talk, but couples are so exhausted by the very act of leaving the house that they find a seat and stay there? That's now Nick and I are. We are a couple of old fogies living in 22-year-old bodies.)

(TANGENTY TANGENT: Barney's quote from HIMYM "When I'm sick I just stop being sick and be awesome instead. True story.") (I love that guy.) 

ANYWAYS, SO, Nick and I stayed in and made spinach mushroom cheese ravioli's with our new kitchen aid and the new ravioli maker and they were DELICIOUS and then I made peach bellini's (frozen peaches, champagne, peach liquor, YUM) and then we watched Star Wars IV and smooched at midnight. 

Time for the requisite New Year's Resolution List! 

1) I will complete 500 miles this year! And do 30 minutes of exercise a day!

2) My mom and I will lose 2lbs a month (minimum) until we reach our goal weights! We will then maintain them. Yay!

3) Clean, clean, clean. Do not let apartment get explody again. 

4) Spend more time with boyfriend and less time on computer. 

5) Be happy and healthy and not let my stomach take over like it did for awhile there. 

PS: My boyfriend's resolution this year was to kiss me more. I think I'm gonna like 2011. ^_^

Happy New Year!!!

Well, it only took about 16 years or so. That's progress!

I finally cleaned my room. It took me 11 hours one day, a few hours the next day, and it is actually still a work in progress. (Hint: there is a reason my bed is not shown.)

My picture-mobile that Drew gave me for my 18th birthday. (Vicky, I still have photos that technically belong to you! But I will keep them by default unless you reeeeally want them back because they are majorly cute.)


This is the dresser that belonged to my grandma and grandpa--it's beautiful and very handy dandy. The top jewelery box my grandma gave me and is totally filled with my necklaces and bracelets and pendants! The middle picture is of my friend Cassie and I when she was just a few weeks pregnant with her first child. The ferris wheel of pictures was a birthday gift from Quentin. And then there's a carved knick-knack filled with zircon earrings.


This is my dresser and mirror that I've had for ages. Mom and dad bought it at an auction when I was young. The feather mask was my grandma's. On my dresser I have a carved jade jewelery box, a blown glass perfume holder, a fairy earring holder, and two coral jewelery holders. Oh, and a cat and a kitten.


This is a cross-stitched Japanese (Chinese?) woman with a little butterfly in the bottom corner. It belonged to my grandparents and was always kept in the bathroom and I've always loved it.


My bookcase corner. I gave mom the larger bookcase and took my older bookcase back (getting rid of about half of my books) and organized them to my exact specifications. On top are my bamboo hearts from Nick (^_^) and a cheap fan, and a "chop" from China from my parents.


I also organized my closet. It's awesome. I need to clean some more (does it ever end?) and then maaaybe post some more pics to show you my beautiful bed and closet. Oohlala!

Exhausted and Dirty

Holy crap on toast, I am so pooped right now! My legs are throbbing in pain from walking. (Oh God am I ever lame. Pretend that they're sore from snorkeling through the Caribbean instead.)

I'm lying in bed but my brain is going a hundred miles a minute, and if Aimee called me right now to babysit I would jump up and jog over. My brain and legs are so contrary because I just cleaned for eleven hours in one go. (You know what would sound impressive? If I said 'eleven hours and I cleaned the house top to bottom'. But that would be someone else's blog, because you know what?) It took me eleven hours to clean my room.

I'll just let you absorb that little tidbit of horrifying information.

Seriously. Whose room is so gross it takes eleven hours to make it clean? WHOSE? (Sidenote; since I am so tired normal things are looking weird, and I just noticed that "whose" is "w"-"hose" and it's weird that the word "hose" is in a possessive form of "who". Now, onward!) Really, who has such a dirty room? There's only so much dusting and vacuuming a person can do before they keel over.

Those of you who know me and/or have seen my dirty room are probably shaking your heads right now in disbelief that I am pretending shocked disbelief. Well, YOU ARE RIGHT. I AM DIRTY. My room is dirty and full of dust and cat litter and EW, if I think about it then yes, I get grossed out too. So I don't.

I wish I had taken a "before" picture but you will have to use your memories for that and settle for "after" pictures. I dusted and vacuumed and mopped repeatedly, threw away and donated and organized and neatened (as strange as it is I am slightly OCD about things being in order. My room can be a hurricane but MY BOOKSHELF WILL BE IN THE RIGHT ORDER. Everything in it's proper place! Or ELSE.) and now my room is so beautiful that I simply must share it with you . . .

. . . tomorrow. (Hey, I'm exhausted and sore here. Ninight!)

I'm an Adult, I Swear!

This morning my mom left for work with the parting words of "Clean the house!"

Troy and Quentin and I promptly . . . did not.

This evening I received a call from our general contractor who told me that he would be running a little late for his meeting at our house with my mom tonight. I had no idea he was coming over but told him okie-dokie. Then I called mom to tell her, she said great, and then she said that she would talk to me soon because she was about 15 minutes from home.

Enter Panic Mode.

I bolted down the stairs, screaming "TROY!" in a way that suggested two burglars had just jumped through my window with knives, rather than to tell him that mom was on her way. (You'll understand in a minute).

He jumps off the couch from watching "How I Met Your Mother" and demands to know what has me so upset.

"Mom has a meeting with Mr. Contractor tonight and she'll be home in fifteen minutes!"

Our eyes met with clear, frantic understanding. Troy sums it up perfectly.

"Oh, shit!"

We both bolt in opposite directions and start grabbing things that need to be put away and tripping over the dogs and cats who had come running at my shrieks. The next fifteen minutes were both amusing and full of panic, as anyone who has met my mother would understand. If you haven't met my mother, just let me tell you that if she told you to clean the house and gave you a whole day during which you had nothing going on, yet still didn't clean the house? You are a dead man. (Or you would wish to be a dead man after the yelling petered out).

Luckily, Troy and I both are masters in the art of "Hide-Crap-So-Nobody-Sees-What-Slobs-We-Really-Are-And-So-We-Don't-Get-In-Trouble" school of baloney-noodles.

The house was passably clean by the time Mom came home. I even decorated some more for Christmas.

(Yes. True Story. I am nearly 21 years old, yet I am scared of my mom coming home to a dirty house. At least my nearly-18 year-old brother joins me in that fear!)

Clean at last!

A few days ago I finally had enough.

I moved my cat Io's litter box out of my room (ew, I know) and also bought him a space-age litter box with a top and a clear door flap so he couldn't kick litter everywhere.

So I spent all day today cleaning my room from top to bottom. I vacuumed and mopped and steam cleaned, moved all of my furniture so I could get under and around them, washed walls and scrubbed, windexed and febrezed and ran loads of laundry, and sang along with music really really loudly while I was doing it all.

I also cleaned the kitten's bathroom and wrote a spanish speech and paper and worked on selling my car.

My back aches like a bad word and I really don't like Spanish right now, but my room is clean!

(Except I want to wipe down all of the surfaces of my closet . . .later. And I need to let my carpet dry before I move my dresser and bed back. But ohmigod I think it might not smell like poop. Amazing!)

Kali does not agree with my cleanliness and protests in her passive-aggressive way. I am NOT cleaning her this time.