Sometimes I am SUCH a girl.  I came home last night and saw an enormous bug on the back edge of my couch.  I shrieked, ran for the Raid, and shoved the couch away from the wall.  I took off my shoe and swatted the thing onto the floor, shrieked yet again then chased it around the living room until I cornered it.  Then I Raid-ed the crap out of it until it stopped moving, at which point I grabbed a wad of paper towels and flushed it.  I then ran out of the apartment straight to the 24 hour drug store to get new roach baits.  This seems to happen about once a year or so.  I guess the bright side is that I always know when it’s time to get new roach baits — perhaps putting it on my calendar would be a better way to go.

As I’ve mentioned, I’m waaaay behind on the Apartment Therapy, but I did make some minor progress this weekend.  First and foremost I brought my old computer, monitor, keyboard and printer to an electronics recycling event on Saturday — considering I bought my new one close to two years ago, it’s about time I got rid of the old one.  Next, I went to the Container Store and got a plan and estimate for my new home office.  Finally, I picked up a new throw, a pillow, and a bowl at Crate and Barrel to add some more red to my living room.  Next weekend — more purging of the crap and a trip to the paint store are in order.

Since college, which was about a hundred years ago, I have always had a bottle opener on my keychain.   Now, in college and shortly thereafter, this made a great deal of sense.  As I’ve gotten older, I never really questioned having it there, although people often made fun of me.  "What are you – still in college?"  Oh, they may mock me, but they always like to use it.  I went to a picnic one day and, of course, people were looking for a bottle opener.  My keys were passed around until I had to leave.  Since some of my friends were staying, they asked if I could leave my bottle opener.  "Sure," I replied, "just remember to take it with you when you leave."  As you might guess, I never saw that bottle opener again.  I proceeded to bug them about it, and one of them offered to get me a replacement — a Kismet bottle opener from Fire Island.  But — summer came and went, and no bottle opener.  And then, last week, Frank produced this little gem, swiped from the boat that circles the Statue of Liberty on a recent booze cruise.  Last night, I was at a rooftop party, and once again, my bottle opener was quite a hit.  Thanks again, Frank!

Courtesy of Gaping Void

I am realizing very quickly that, given the amount of time I am dedicating to it, my eight-week Apartment Therapy project will end up taking more like 12-16 weeks. Sure, I’m clipping things for my style tray and have made some minor progress, but I am not slowing down my life enough to give it the time it deserves.  Sigh.  I’m supposed to be in week three, but I haven’t completed all of the tasks set out in weeks one and two.  I have been buying flowers and am having another Sunday night dinner, and am starting to think about colors for paint, which is freaking me out a bit.  Well — the "housewarming" I’m supposed to have at the end of the process may end up being a holiday party of some sort, which could be fun.  And speaking of not slowing down, tomorrow’s agenda includes: Team Joe run, brunch w/Erika, Stone Street Oysterfest, and the Vendy’s.  No, I’m not a judge this year.

I hope — got slammed with a touch of the plague and stayed home from work yesterday, armed with the usual weapons.  Am headed in to the office today, but am picking up some tissues with lotion on the way to work.

. . . that I saw on the elevator screen at work today (although I have seen it elsewhere before).  "True love comes quietly, without banners or flashing lights. If you hear bells, get your ears checked." — Erich Segal

You’d better believe it.

I have lived in the same apartment for six years.  During that time, every time I have a friend over who hasn’t visited previously, they generally wander around the hallway for a while when they get off the elevator before they find my apartment.  Last week, much to my excitement, I arrived home from work to find small directional signs installed in the hallway of my floor.  I imagine that’ll save my guests some wandering time in the future.

I had what might have been the absolute laziest weekend at the beach this weekend.  First, Friday night, I had a hot date with my couch and the latest Netflix arrival — Mulholland Drive (which was good, but wacked).  I got up earlyish Saturday morning to head out to the beach, despite the lack of beach weather.  Other than a 4+ mile run on Sunday, my time at the beach was spent reading, lounging, eating, and sunning some of my less tan areas.  And believe it or not, this is the only picture I took all weekend, on the ferry ride home.

As you may already know, I finished a triathlon a few weeks back.  I told a friend what I had gotten myself as a reward for accomplishing this goal — a pair of boxing gloves.  He looked at me as if I were insane.  "What?! Boxing gloves?! Most people would go straight for the Haagen Dazs."  Well, sure, I worked out a bit less and ate a bit more the week after the race, but have been pretty much back to business since.  Part of my new routine is going to be a Monday night boxing class — the one that kicked my ass all over the place when I took it a while back.  There’s a Tuesday night kickboxing class as a scheduling backup and I’ve been incorporating some boxing into my personal training sessions as well.  Why the boxing?  Well, it is an excellent cardio workout, not to mention an amazing stress-reliever.  Having a crappy day?  Go to a boxing class and punch the hell out of a punching bag — I guarantee you will walk away feeling better, although possibly a bit sore.

Off to the beach for the weekend — who says summer’s over?