The Great Black Hole of Socks and Tupperware

You know what really gets my goat? Mis- or unmatched Tupperware containers and lids. It’s as if they’re sucked into the same black hole that socks like to hide in. You know what I’m talking about–you put eight socks in the washer and only seven come out. That extra sock is doomed to spend the rest of its life in the back of your sock drawer–alone, just like the cat lady down the street. Or, in case of emergency, you’re forced to pair a brown sock with a black sock and hope that no one notices.

 

Now that I’m cooking more, I use and need more Tupperware containers (and by “Tupperware,” I mean, “Gladware, Rubbermaid, and anything used to store food that is not a baggie”). I can’t describe the feeling of elation I had when I realized such containers are dishwasher-safe. When it comes time for me to put away the tupperware post-dishwashing, I stack like-shaped containers with each other, with their lids conveniently underneath them. That system of organization is shattered when I have a lid or container without a mate.

 

Now obviously the containers aren’t being sucked into the mechanism of the dishwasher or I’d hear an unpleasant sound. So, what then, is happening to them? Are they Apparating, Harry Potter-style? My mom used to say, “It must have grown legs and walked off.” Are they literally growing legs and walking out of my apartment? Are they then falling down the stairwell or the elevator shaft?

 

What is your secret to defeating the Great Black Hole of Socks and Tupperware? How do you prevent your tupperware and socks from sucked into it? Have you tried anything to prevent the sucking-in, or have you resigned yourself to a lifetime of sucking-in?

Putting Pantyhose Through the Dishwasher

Okay, this sounds weird. But I have a Pinterest-worthy idea and I don’t have a reason to sign up for Pinterest, so I might as well share it here.

Ever since I moved into my new place, I’ve started to pamper myself by buying fresh flowers. I’m not a big flowers person, but they are pretty and seeing them puts me in a good mood. I swiped a vase and decorative marbles from a table at my friend’s wedding reception this summer, so I’m certainly not lacking for a flower receptacle.

The only problem? After a week or two of being submerged in “flower water,” the marbles (and the vase, too, for that matter) get a little grimy. What’s that, you say? There’s no efficient way to clean the marbles other than scrubbing them one by one, by hand? False. I cut off the feet of a pair of ripped pantyhose and use them to wash the marbles in my dishwasher without getting the marbles lost in the washing mechanisms. I throw marbles in each foot, knot them shut, and throw them in the utensil compartment of the dishwasher. Boom. Clean marbles, a clean vase, and no prune-y fingers.

I’m pretty proud of myself for this one, that’s for certain.

The vase and the marble-stuffed pantyhose pre-dishwasher.

 

The vase and marbles post-dishwasher, complete with flowers.

Julia Child I Am Not

It’s no secret that I can’t cook. And by “can’t,” I mean, “don’t.” Well, “didn’t.” It’s not that I don’t have the capacity to do so – I make a mean beef taco skillet – it’s just that I never learned, took the time to learn, or cared to learn when I was growing up. Once I moved into my own place before my senior year of college, cooking become a bit of a necessity.

I’m not sure exactly how I managed to feed myself over the past few years other than by mooching food off (reading: stealing food from) my mom (and helping myself to more than a few leftovers at family functions) and by always taking home doggie bags from restaurants. I named myself the “Queen of Leftovers.” My mom started to teach me, but I sort of gave up after learning how to brown beef. For a few months, I worked a high-pressure job which required me to work 95-hour weeks. This was an obvious roadblock to learning how to cook. As a result, I bought lunch every day and put on weight despite all the stress I had.

I lost 23 pounds last summer and as the pounds started to disappear, I tried to put more of an emphasis on eating healthily. If there was one thing I learned from my mom, it was to always have a fruit or veggie with your meals. Yes, microwave dinners and Kraft Mac & Cheese will feed you, but they will bore you and won’t necessarily help your waistline. One reason I refrained from cooking was that my old apartment kitchen left something to be desired. The fridge was new and the cupboards and counters plentiful, but it just wasn’t nice. Functional, yes. Nice, no.

Enter my new apartment. Literally. I’m in love with it and the gorgeous granite counter tops and flat-top stove give me plenty of incentive to cook. Plus, with the new job and new apartment, it’s like I’m starting a new life, so why not start something else new, too?

I have since learned how to bake chicken. Impressive, I know. I’ve experimented with spaghetti (again, very impressive) and quesadillas. I’ve even tried no-bake brownies and can’t wait to break in my brand new cupcake pans.
At 25, I have mastered the cooking skills of a home ec student! But I am proud. Damn proud. Most of this has been just me. Well, me and my BFF Better Homes and Gardens.

We're BFFs.

Ch-Ch Changes

You may have noticed it’s been a while since I’ve written, and you may have noticed that quite a few of my posts have been removed. A lot of things have happened since I last wrote, one of them being that I got a new job that I had been hoping to get for a while. As part of my new position, I have to cool it on the political stuff, so I will be shifting the focus of my blog and Twitter to reflect that. I’m not sure in what direction I’ll be going, but maybe I’ll figure it out as I go. It may very well end up being a bunch of rambling about my mundane daily adventures.

 

One major change in my life is that I moved into a much nicer apartment. It was a big change for me, going from a residential neighborhood to the middle of my city’s downtown. I grew up in the country so the hustle and bustle (at least, as much hustle and bustle as my particular city can have) has taken some getting used to. Instead of having to clear snow off my car, I now have a spot in a parking garage. I no longer have to walk up a dozen steps from the sidewalk to my front porch; I now walk into the elevator and mash the button for the seventh floor. I go to a new grocery store, although it is not much further than my old grocery store was to my old apartment. My gym is a little further away, but only by a few minutes. I am within walking distance of a lot of great restaurants and my commute consists of a 30-second walk.

 

My apartment itself is gorgeous and I sometimes feel as if I live in a hotel. The kitchen has hardwood floors, granite countertops, and a dishwasher, which is a real BFD to me because I hate washing dishes and my parents never had one. My bedroom and bathroom are huge, and so are the guest bed and bath. The guest bath is actually larger than my own bath as it contains the washer and dryer. The washer and dryer means no more lugging multiple loads of dirty, smelly laundry to my mom’s house, so my mom especially likes that feature (she also enjoys the guest bedroom which she refers to as her room). My favorite feature is the exposed brick wall in my bedroom.

My kitchen!

 

Back to the hotel thing. I was able to move my things in slowly over the course of a month, but the heavy lifting came at the end of February when two male friends helped me move my heavy furniture. My mom visited me and I took two personal days from work to unpack. By mid-afternoon both days, I was so tired that I became delusional. I was slurring my words, saying nonsensical things, and just about falling over from fatigue. One thing that I could not stop saying was, “This is like a hotel.” My mom still teases me about it today.

 

I’m also training for two 5Ks! I never in my life thought I would even consider doing it, and that makes me even more excited for them.The first one is a fun, noncompetitive run for women. There’s no timing, no placing, and tons of mud! It’s similar to the Tough Mudder runs for men, but no live wires; just obstacles and lots of mud. I’m doing it with two friends and we are having a blast doing it. I never thought I’d enjoy lifting weights as much as I have been.

And so, that’s what’s been going on with me lately and why things are going to start to look a bit different around here. I’ll try to not bore you too much.