Got Mold?

I am not a messy person. I keep my house quite clean, and organization and decorating makes me happy.

But I was having one heckuva time keeping my shower mold-free. I live in the master bedroom and therefore have a big walk-in shower, which I love. I spray the shower down every other day when I get out, but otherwise haven't done much in the way of cleaning. That was starting to be a problem.

I went to Target yesterday to buy cleaning supplies because we have a new housekeeper coming on Saturday, and I stumbled across this in the cleaning aisle:

I've never been one to peruse the cleaning aisle, but I might have to start, because I got home and followed the directions on the bottle. I sprayed it on the icky spots in my shower and let it sit overnight.

OH MY GOSH. When I got into the shower this morning, you nearly couldn't tell where there had been any problems. I was shocked, amazed, and THRILLED. So of course I did what any logical person would do and basically sprayed half the bottle all over my shower.

And now I'm blogging about it, and I'm really excited to go home and see if I can see myself in the reflection of my shower tiles.

This stuff may not be all natural and it may not be safe for children or pets but good grief does it work effectively. I'm stoked. So to those of you who are facing mold & mildew problems in your showers, run thee to the nearest store and buy buy buy. You'll be equally excited.

PS - Lysol didn't pay me. I wish.

Airing My Dirty Laundry



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I'm not sure what is more pathetic - the fact that I am about to dedicate an entire blog post to my laundry, or the fact that I haven't done laundry in a month and my closet still looked like I hadn't made a dent in it. Probably a little bit of both. I've been avoiding my laundry. It piles up in the corner of my closet, and just keeps piling. Don't misunderstand me - I love doing laundry. It's one of those things that once you do it, it's done. I've been known to do my laundry in my bathrobe so that there are no dirty clothes left. I just haven't wanted to do this laundry... mainly because I just let the pile get out of control. 

So last weekend, I knew I had people coming over on Thanksgiving and I knew I needed to get a head start on my cleaning. Then tailgating and way too much tequila happened and my laundry didn't. Neither did my headstart on basically anything, considering I spent the better part of Sunday jamming out in my bed to the sweet sounds of Moulin Rouge. Then, on Monday, my parents were here and laundry didn't happen. And then last night, well, my parents were still here, and laundry really almost didn't happen. And then I realized that it was in fact Tuesday, and Thursday was in fact the day I was having company, and well, if I didn't start my laundry on Tuesday night then there would be no laundry starting, because it takes me no less than 36 hours to finish doing laundry. And usually it takes a solid week before the remnants of my laundry doing are actually put away.



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So last night I get home from my 2nd trip to Target (first one was alone and I spent $20, second time was with my mom and we spent $75... and they say kids are expensive!), and I decided it was now or never on the laundry. And since I'm working, surely a lot of it will be things that can be dry-cleaned, right? Psh. Wrong. 4 GIANT piles of laundry later, and I was in business.

Now we're getting to why I'm writing this in the first place. For the first 18 years of my life, my mom did my laundry. I'm not spoiled, she just didn't like anybody messing with her laundry room. I may actually be spoiled, but that's not why she did my laundry. And she always separated lights & darks. But that's as far as she goes in the separation process. Then, when they come out of the washing machine, most of the clothes automatically got put out on our clothes line to air dry. Just like in 1922. My family preferred to live like pilgrims. Just kidding. Kind of.

So, back to my laundry last night - I decided I was going to out-smart my mom's laundry capabilities, and I was going to separate into 4 piles: dark, goes in dryer. dark, doesn't go in dryer. light, goes in dryer. and lastly, light, doesn't go in dryer. No more of this searching through wet clothes to figure out if they go in the dryer or not! No more shrunken shirts! I'm so pleased with myself.
Now if only there was as foolproof a plan for tackling the kitchen, bathroom, bedroom, living room, & dining room. Good thing mom's coming over, I'm sure she has one, and if she doesn't... well, she's as good a duster as any. And I'm thankful for that.

Uhhh...

Apparently it's my turn to field all the weirdos of the world. Unfortch, this one is someone I know for real and not just some stranger from the interwebz. Does that make it weirder or normal-er? I don't even know.

Jason: im farting at my desk

Jason: it smells bad. I have the beer farts
Katie: ew.
Sent at 1:13 PM on Thursday

Thank you for that vital piece of information while I sit at my desk in ATL and you are at yours in NYC. This makes me infinitely happier that I no longer work with you, however unnecessary the sharing of this information was.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going back to stuffing my face with peanut butter m&m's and photoshopping myself and my friends into pictures with celebrities. I'll be sure to post some of my work as I finish it.

A Message I Received on a Social Networking Site

I still remember the first time someone complimented my feet. I was 17, in Myrtle Beach, and my best friend & I were in the hot tub at our hotel because it was covered and an afternoon storm had rolled in. Two (really cute) boys got in with us, and I had popped my toes up out of the water. One of the boys told me I had the cutest little toes he had ever seen. I giggled incessantly as any 17-year-old-girl would. Then they proceeded to tell us they were the son's of the owner of the hotel and that we should join them in the penthouse for a party later. Of course we believed them, got all dressed up, and went to the elevator, only to find out there was no penthouse, only a top floor, and obviously chain hotels don't have owners. Hello idiot 17 year old girls. Anyway, back to the point. Apparently my feet precede me, as this gentlemen had no so much as seen a picture of my feet before he sent the following:

him: im startin a foot/shoe modeling website and Im looking for models and just thought I wuld ask if your interested

me: seriously? (at this point i think this is just a lame attempt at a pickup line via the internet)

him: yea??

me: i have big feet (now i'm expecting him to turn this into a sexual conversation)

him: big feet is a good thing

me: you dont even know what my feet look like (why am i being logical?)

him: i dnt

him: i mean r they pretty

me: well i think so but i'm a little biased (i'm really reminiscing on that moment 7 years ago in the hot tub, i can still remember the color of my toenail polish)

him: do u have a pic

me: of my feet? (no katie, of your favorite roller coaster ride. YES YOUR FEET!)

me: no (i'm sure homeboy is thinking 'finally, this girl must be dumb or something')

him: well u could take one

me: they aren't polished right now, i need a pedicure something fierce (100% truth, although now i am only continuing conversation because i think this will make an excellent blog post)

him: man u have every excuse ha

me: i'm just telling the truth, although i can't lie and say i don't think this conversation is a little weird

him: well dnt talk to me? (i thought you'd never ask!)

me: alright, have a great night!

For the record, my feet:

An update: THE BUG.

In case you were wondering...

The little devil is still under my shoe. It's a cute one, too (the shoe I mean).

UGH UGH UGH.

Bugs-Be-Gone

Me and the outdoors, we have a pretty good relationship. I stay in, they stay out, it's that simple really. Condo living has made this living arrangement that much more agreeable, too. And whenever the outdoors has come inside, I've found whatever animals made their way in to be awfully considerate, arriving when the roommate's boyfriend (whom I lovingly refer to as my 1/2-bf) is conveniently over to properly dispose of them amidst our screaming and panic.

For instance, the time I was making jello shots in the kitchen, and Dustin is hanging out with me while Nicole was on a conference call, and I turn around and there is A LIZARD JUST CHILLING ON MY 2ND FLOOR KITCHEN TILES. Needless to say, while I jumped on the bar chairs nearest me and screamed and pointed, he calmly scooped it up and threw it over the balcony. Who knows if that conniving little lizard survived the fall, but alls I know is that it was out of my kitchen.

So this morning, I'm going through my morning routine, and I happened to be at the point where I sit down on the toilet. I glance over to my left, and JUMP UP OFF THE TOILET SCREAMING because there WAS A GIANT CENTIPEDE LOOKING BUG WITH CHOMPERS TWICE THE LENGTH OF HIS BODY AND A BAJILLION LITTLE LEGS. He was just crawling all over my bathroom wall at my eye height as if it was no big deal. As if I was in HIS SPACE. Apparently, how dare I.

So now I've got a bug on the wall, a toilet I'm afraid to go near because of said bug, and I've GOT to take a shower, and THERE IS NO ONE THERE TO KILL THE BUG EXCEPT NICOLE!!! And she's just as freaked out as me. So I jump in the shower, praying with all my might that he doesn't decide to follow me, take the fastest shower of my life, and get out, TO FIND THE LITTLE DEVIL SCAMPERING TOWARDS MY CLOTHES ON THE FLOOR. I realize this is my personal problem, leaving clothes on the bathroom floor and all, but I'll be damned if that little jerk was going to ruin perfectly good clothes by scurrying all through them. I scooped up my clothes, threw them on the counter, RAN for a shoe, waited for the perfect moment and

WHAM! Dude was dead. Or at least I hope so, because this happened at 7am and it's now 4:30pm and that shoe and the door it is in front of haven't moved, and won't until at least this time tomorrow. It's kind of a nuisance, too, because the shoe-that-killed-the-bug is holding the door open, but I have all my jewelry on the back of the door, and I hang my towel on the back of the door too. Oh well - lacking jewelry and a new towel hanging spot are well worth the sacrifice. Hopefully Dustin comes over later to clean up the bug guts.

But seriously... now is when I need some sort of immediately available man-friend. Maybe I should put that on an online dating website. Girl seeking bug killing boyfriend. I'm pathetic.