5 Things that are in my bed that are not me

Gosh being in your twenties is exciting isn’t it? Every day is an adventure and blah blah blah.

Sometimes (read, all the times) there are things in my bed which aren’t me.

Here’s a list.

1. Laundry I couldn’t be bothered to put away

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Possibly THE worst household chore of all time, folding clean laundry and putting it away only to re-crumple it and rewash it and then put it away again…. Ain’t nobody got time for dat. I’ll just sleep spooning this lump of garments and pretend it’s a person who loves me. Weeping softly into my freshly laundered towls whispering “whyyyywhyyyyy” as my uterus dries up.

 

 

 

 

2. Friends from out of Town

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I’ve slept on enough couches/in friends beds over the years to feel like I always at least have to offer my bed/couch to friends who are coming into town (Karma yo). As a result, there are often quite a few galpals slumming it on my bed during the year, which I’m totally fine with so long as there’s still room for me (spoiler – there usually isn’t).

That’s cool I don’t need sleep. Sleep is for the WEAK *tears phone book in half with bear bare hands*

 

 

 

 

3. My Laptop & Phone

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I pretty much stare at a computer screen 19 hours of the day between my laptop screen and my smart phone (must…know… all…the things) so they usually have pride of place in the spot a significant other might reside at sleepy time.

The internet is my boyfriend now.

Sorry available men dying to take me out.

 

 

 

4. Food and/or Dishes

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Much like how I can’t be bothered to put away my laundry, sometimes after eating in my bed (because I’m watching Take Me Out UK on my laptop while in my pajamas because I’ve lost control of my life… duh) the kitchen 4 meters away is just too much to handle. So I’ll just carefully scrape the plate/bowl clean and rest it gently on the other side of the bed. Then I’ll have a little sleepy time because I’m freaking cool and living life to the max OKAY?!

 

 

 

 

5. An unpacked suitcase

Packed suitcase on Bed

Because I’ll go crazy if I stay in the same place for more than 3 consecutive months, I’m always packing/unpacking suitcases on my bed. My philosophy with my bed is, I need to sleep there, and I’m super lazy… so if I put enough obstacles on my nest of rest, then there’s no way I can ignore it forever and I will eventually GET SHIT DONE. Even if it’s just enough shit so that I’ve made a comfy little Paris shaped spot to curl up in. I hate putting away my clothes and I also hate packing unless its very very very much last minute and heartstoppinglypanicky. That’s why you’ll find a suitcase on there that I haven’t bothered to unpack – or because I’m reminding myself to pack. Also because I’m cooler and more international than you.

So yah.

 

 

What can you take away from this blogpost? First off – you aren’t alone, crazy, alone, lame, twenty-something year old, and also, I really really really hate putting my clothes away. So I would probably consider paying someone else to do it and stuff. Not much though… cos I’m like, poor and stuff. But maybe you could do it as an internship? Probs look great on your resume.

 

The Challenge of wanting vs doing

I haven’t blogged in almost 2 weeks and that makes me feel bad.

Blogging is always on my to do list, even when my brain feels like the melted easter eggs I found in the bottom of my desk drawer (and yes I still ate them).

I have a personality with a “type” clearly labelled. Over-achiever, controlling, etc etc. It’s all very interesting, (as you can tell by the way I’m casually skimming over the issue), but to live the personality day in day out – well…it’s rather exhausting.

Take for example the lack of blogging.

(Conversation with myself)

I didn’t blog today, or yesterday, or the day before. It’s cool. I recently took on the challenge of writing an article for a local paper.
Is it cool? Blogging was the one thing I was doing consistently.
Yes Paris, it’s fine. Relax.
Okay… but I should have blogged about something… like my first experience with Passover, or that car accident we witnessed coming back from Buffalo… or more lists of things I haven’t achieved (that was a popular one), or destinations I would like to travel too, or the failed planned Miami trip or-
I didn’t blog. Get over it. Or blog. Yoda says do or do not there is no try.

I’m kind of mean to myself. Harsh. Blunt. Actually that’s pretty much how I am with most people, except that I temper the things I say to other people.
And they don’t live in my head 24/7.

But it’s frustrating when your biggest distraction is yourself.
No, I didn’t have to spend 3 hours on Reddit reading every single funny post.
Nor stalk the wedding photos of a girl I went to High School with.
I didn’t have to watch the 2 new episodes of Modern Family.

I could have used that time to do something worthwhile, like go online and pay my bills. Or enroll in that course I’ve been meaning to enroll in. I could have done another draft review of the article due on the 19th, or connected with a family member. I could have gone to the gym, or done my laundry.

All the things I could have done… that I didn’t.

And it’s not like I don’t want to do them!

I want to build a blog with a strong following so I have some kind of writing to show for myself.
I want to pay my bills so it’s off my mind, and enroll in that course for the same reason.
I REALLY want to finish that article so I can send it off and feel great and not stress about it last minute.
And I really want to go to the gym so I have a banging hot body for Camp this summer (where I will spend every day in a bikini and shorts)
And I really really NEED to do laundry because I’ve been having to wear my sexy underwear on days I just want to wear comfies.

sigh.

But like all good members of my personality type, I go through fazes of mass productivity, and uber-incredible-indescribable slothness.

The challenge of wanting vs doing.

Blog: check.

p.s Sorry the picture at the top has literally NOTHING to do with this post. I was trying to find a superman sloth but…well google images just wasn’t playing ball.