Peanut Butter On My Hand

This has absolutely nothing to do with peanut butter. Or any food for that matter. I just looked down at my hand and realized I'm a slob. Kind of. Not really...Okay, I'm really not really a slob at all. If you know me you know that I'm the complete opposite! Apparently I just struggle with the second grade task of making a sandwich. Ugh...


Speaking of "Ugh..." today I did my laundry. Laundry day probably should have been eons ago, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. Something about climbing 4 flights of stairs multiple times is never appealing. Desperate times call for desperate measures, so I caved. Should I have been near a state of panic over my laundry? Uh...YES!?! Stupid question. I have this weird thing where my underwear HAS to match what I am wearing in some way. As you can imagine, I own about every color combination and style of underwear in the universe. Except granny panties. Those break every cardinal rule ever invented. Scratch that, too broad of a generalization. 29 is the magic number here. 29 pairs of underwear. Too much information? My bad :) Some might call this excessive, I call it necessary.


I don't know when, or why this weird obsession of mine started. It's not like I walk around with my unmentionables hanging out of my pants so people see if I match or not, but it's something I have learned to deal with(Sale days at Victoria's Secret and American Eagle can be found on my calendar.) For the past week or so I have been planning my outfits around my underwear selection, hence my desperation. After coming to terms with the task at hand, I made the trip to the laundry room*stairs*, went to do homework*stairs*, transferred clothes from the washer to the dryer*stairs*, created this blog*stairs*, got my nice warm clothes out of the dryer*stairs*, and put everything in its right and proper place*stairs*.


All is now well in 3212. At least for the next 29 days...Does YOUR wardrobe keep you in shape?