ironing and whining

I forgot to mention that while I was at the Best Vacuum open house on Saturday, a lovely woman by the name of Camilla came by and gave a demo of the Laurastar Magic i-S6. It is an ironing system. Not just a board and an iron. I think if you reprogrammed it just right, it could do all those things and launch a rocket into space.

I think I’ve become obsessed with housekeeping appliances because I love gadgets and also because I feel myself on the verge of actually starting and finishing all the housework I’ve been meaning to do for the last, um, six months weeks.

I won’t bore you with a list of what needs to be done, or disgust you with pictures of my abode, but rest assured, it is necessary. I’m not quite at “Hoarders” level squalor. It’s more like “Clean House” only without the adorable Niecy Nash to chide me for buying too many shoes before sending me off to a nice hotel for a night while she and the rest of the “Clean House” crew organize my shit. But wouldn’t that be something?

Cleaning house is always on my mind, and it was last night when I left work. I guess I could have gone straight home and tidied up, or worked out, but it was such a nice day and instead I went to the South Loop Target to try on some Eugenia Kim for Target hats that I knew would look awful on account of me having a gigantic head. And then I went to Oysy with Kathy. I ordered way too much sushi for one person, so I was glad Kathy helped me out. I did, however, manage to finish this delicious orange blossom martini all by myself:

Orange Blossom Martini @ Oysy

PS: I was on the bus this morning, perched on the edge of a seat in the back. This is what I do when I see a spot between two people who are smaller than me. I figure that since I carry most of my excess weight in my gut, it’s easier for me to sit on the edge instead of sitting back and thus infringing on the personal space of my neighbors. We fat transit riders are nothing if not polite, no matter what people may say. Though they seem to tweet about it an awful lot.

My perching was, I thought, working pretty well. At least woman to my left didn’t seem to mind. Until, of course, the bus turned a corner rather sharply and this tossed me back into my seat. I wasn’t hurt but did she ask me if I was okay? Did anybody? No. Maybe she figured my extra fat padded my fall? It, alas, did not.


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