So many accomplishments to speak of this week:
1. I cleaned my apartment! Not in the half-heartedly dusted random surfaces way, but like a for real cleaning, the kind where you move big pieces of furniture and discover weeks’ (months’) worth of hair ties and bottle caps, most of which the cat has pushed together into a central under-couch nest of mischief. Despite my apartment being so small it was until recently technically illegal, this kind of thorough cleaning somehow took me four hours to complete, roughly equivalent to four Weezer albums, which I listened to in order of least favorite to most because obviously that’s just good motivational planning.
2. Per my annual schedule, I completed my Fall Gym Visit. See you in four months, New York Sports Club. (Speaking of which, please stop updating your equipment so frequently that I have to re-learn how to turn on a stationary bike every time I show up. Thx.)
3. I finished, for what feels like the first time in months (a cursory blog review agrees), a really good, really interesting literary novel that made me think about stuff other than which real housewife should legitimately be considered the most famous and whether or not I should buy peanut butter for the express purpose of trying a peanut-butter-and-pickle sandwich.
Continue reading “Do not be fooled by the iguana on the cover, Lost Memory of Skin is about sex offenders”
couldreads 