Lack of space

Everyday this week, on my way home, I promise to myself that I'll finish sorting through all the half empty boxes in my living room. Then I get home, cook, eat, watch an episode or two of one of those shows that I watch (way too many), and finally get around to start putting things away. Despite working for a couple hours each day, I don't seem to be getting anywhere, and I've just realized why: there's no place to put anything!

There is a total of one (yes ONE!) closet in my new apartment, in the bedroom. It's already full of clothing, and empty bags, and snowboarding equipment. The empty drawer set from the extra room holds more clothing, and a cardboard box is the home to the rest. (How do I own so much stuff and still never find weather-appropriate clothing?) The kitchen has 1/4 the number of cupboards as the last place, and they are already full of cutlery, plates, cups, pans, and Tupperware, which means that all my dry foods and baking ingredients are in boxes in one of my book shelves. The other book shelf is full of books (I've somehow managed to accumulate over 100 books since I moved here). Which leaves my camping equipment, my textbooks and old notebooks, vacuum cleaner, towels, sushi plates, and all those odds and ends that I just stuffed into random storage spots in various piles in the living room... and I've just spent the night moving these piles around, trying to make them look tidier, to no avail. So I decided to sit down and write this little rant. I'm done now. Hopefully when my couch (with it's handy-dandy storage compartment), coffee table (with it's wonderful shelf), extra shelving unit (can't wait!), and bed (with all that space under it to make invisible untidy piles) arrive, things will disappear from my living room floor!

Packing Memories

While I was back in Montreal in late August, I had a daunting task to accomplish: sort through all the boxes I had stored in my mother's basement, and keep as little as possible. This was something that I was supposed to do since I first moved away from home, four years ago, and that I had successfully put off until just a few weeks ago. So there I was, amid all my childhood keepsakes, rediscovering all those little things that I once found important enough not to throw away... and I became brutal.

Off went the lone doll, Momotaro, and all her clothing. Off went all those little statues that I bought at garage sales, and all the clothing that I thought I might be able to fit into once more (no dice). And off went pictures, old posters, drawings, fake hair (from when I wanted to get all my hair done up in little tiny braids), most stuffed animals, marbles... And then I made the best discovery of all: my old notebooks which contained all my attempts at writing novels. These were written with I was in 7th or 8th grade, before learning how to spell in English, and they are quite horrible in retrospect... but still enthralling. So I took a 2h break, skimmed most stories, and then got back to work. (It took me the better part of 2 weeks to finish reading them all, and I realized that I already knew things about myself back then that I had forgotten and have been now rediscovering!)

Things that I saved: old agendas, report cards, favorite stuffed animals, good pictures, letters, essays... a big box's worth a nicknacks really. When all is said and done, I was happy to finally get this accomplished, yet another step along the path right? Most of the things I gave away were no longer important or sentimental to me, and I vowed (while lugging the give away boxes outside) to stop accumulating random junk, and to try to stay emotionally unattached to as many of my possessions as possible.

And now, here I am, a few weeks later, packing and unpacking once more (since I'm moving to a brighter, nicer apartment, yay!)... and I'm quite amazed at how much stuff I'm been able to accumulate in a year. I moved out here with a total of six 50lbs boxes, and now I have enough to fill 4 carloads + furniture! Embarrassing, really. Hopefully now that I live in a smaller apartment, I will finally become the type of consumer I want to be!

Wisdom tooth

As requested by my lovely mother, I'm posting my wisdom tooth removal story. A few weeks ago, my bottom left wisdom tooth decided to start growing, it pierced my gum and the whole ordeal very painful. I can now be more understanding of all those wailing teething babies! The pain got quite annoying, so I went to see a nurse, who have me Orajel, which is basically baby teething medicine (I'm unfortunately not being dramatic, this is a picture of what I got...). Orajel tasted gross, but did freeze me up well enough to dull the pain. Time went by, and the pain receded. Still, I had made an appointment to get my tooth removed today, so off I went!

I must confess that I was nervous, almost everyone I spoke to had a horror wisdom tooth related story to share with me. By the by people, sharing pain filled stories with a "pre-op" patient is not the smartest thing to do, just mentioning! So there I was, frozen from my chin to my ear, and half way across the face, still mentally preparing myself for what was about to happen, trying to figure out what exactly the dentist was up to, and all of a sudden there was a big pressure and the tooth was out! Incredible! I mean the actual removal of the tooth must have lasted 10 minutes top! The before and after part were long, tedious, and painful... but kudos to modern medicine, getting a tooth pulled out was a breeze!

Well, seems that today I lost wisdom, but I gained life experience, so I guess the trade was worth it! I still have two upper wisdom teeth left. Let us hope that they stay hidden.