Thursday, April 28, 2011

Apartment: Kitchen.

I love my apartment. It's really cute, and very affordable, and my roommates are fantastic. The kitchen in my apartment isn't particularly special, but I love it, because it is a kitchen. It looks something like this:


The main difference is that this picture has the wrong number of cupboards, and the third dimension isn't even trying. I call this style Neo-Cubist Crapism. Regardless, I love my kitchen. It is adorable, as is the rest of my apartment. However, when it arrived, the kitchen was uncluttered, but dirty in the literal sense of the word. As you probably know, if you are reading this, I am really really disorganized when it comes to my own bedroom, because I don't really care, although I should. However, when it comes to the kitchen, I can be a bit neurotic. I've been cleaning it for two days, and it still isn't how I want it to be. Then again, I feel like I've perceived everything as being significantly worse than it actually was.

Take, for example, the microwave. Realistically speaking, it looked something like this:


On the nasty side, but no worse than the one in the vending machine room at Chipman Hall. However, probably because this microwave was in an actual kitchen, my brain processed it as this:


It was terrifying. I was absolutely positive that even putting something in the microwave would cause Ebola upon its consumption. I washed it thoroughly, and proceeded to do the same to everything else in the kitchen.

Admittedly, some of the things in the kitchen were dirty such that reality and my imagination were on the same page. For example, I had to scrape gunk out of the creases of the cupboard doors with a knife, because paper towels wouldn't cut it (literally). It was revolting.

However, soon I was able to clean it to a point where I could cook in it comfortably. The problem is that, having gone through cooking withdrawal while living in the dorms, all I want to do now is cook. Yesterday, for example, I baked bread, and today I baked two batches of cookies. If this keeps up, I give it a month until I look like this:


I'm not far off.

The moral of the story, however, is that I very much love having a kitchen, now that it's clean(er) and I love being able to cook, even if I should try to exercise a little more restraint. If you're in Provo, feel free to drop by. Chances are there will be plenty to eat.

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

The Cause of Maturity

As I enter another of my usually temporary bursts of maturity, I feel a little more confident that this one will last. Because I believe I have finally determined the true cause of lasting maturity. It is not based in soul-searching reflection. Nor is it based in ambition, or determination. No, it is based in having to pay the electricity bill.

Things that Mature Adults do:

  • Take showers that are not half an hour long. Or an hour long.
  • Turn lights off when they leave a room, rather than, say, leave for the day with the lights on in their dorm room as was previously their habit.
  • Rely on natural light when possible, rather than sit in front of a window at noon with every light in the room turned on for no apparent reason.
  • Not turn on every single light in the house at night because they heard a creak and now are completely and utterly convinced that there is an axe-murderer or a clown SOMEWHERE.
  • Cook efficiently, instead of one thing at a time.
  • Wear socks instead of raising the heat unnecessarily.
  • Open windows instead of turning on the air conditioner unnecessarily.
  • Go to bed early instead of staying up till 4 am with the lights on.
  • Get up early instead of wasting hours of daylight.

Things that will reduce my electricity bill:

  • Taking showers that are not half an hour long. Or an hour long.
  • Turning lights off when I leave a room, rather than, say, leaving for the day with the lights on in my dorm room as was previously my habit.
  • Relying on natural light when possible, rather than sitting in front of a window at noon with every light in the room turned on for no apparent reason.
  • Not turning on every single light in the house at night because I heard a creak and now am completely and utterly convinced that there is an axe-murderer or a clown SOMEWHERE.
  • Cooking efficiently, instead of one thing at a time.
  • Wearing socks instead of raising the heat unnecessarily.
  • Opening windows instead of turning on the air conditioner unnecessarily.
  • Going to bed early instead of staying up till 4 am with the lights on.
  • Getting up early instead of wasting hours of daylight.

So now, I'm going to start acting like an ADULT. In one respect, anyway. I think if I were magically to morph fully into an adult in one setting my brain would short-circuit, and I would probably die. Baby steps.

Monday, April 18, 2011

Packing: It is difficult.

It's finals week. But also weighing particularly heavily on my mind is the fact that I must pack my belongings into boxes and be prepared to move to my new apartment by Wednesday. This wouldn't be such a big deal, except this is what my room looks like at the moment:


(Realistic Artistic Reproduction)


This is a problem. Not only is everything scattered in a way that makes it difficult to organize, but it appears that my walls have turned a sickly pale yellow-green, and the third dimension has decided to quit working properly.

I'm doomed.