Truly, Madly, Deeply Hold my Hand

I'm cleaning the house today. I'm one of those people who is a neat freak inside my head, but I can't seem to make that image of myself actually come to fruition. I'm messy, I have pack rat tendencies, and I'm terrible at putting things back where I found them. I desperately want to be obsessed with vacuuming and organizing though. This is slightly depressing, but when I was younger I used to lay in bed at night and wish that I'd wake up thin. Now I lay in bed at night and wish that I'd wake up tidy. Deep down inside, I know that's about as possible as that childhood dream. If only I could come to terms with my messiness the way I have with my body.

Anyway, all this cleaning talk leads me to these days when I wake up with every intention of scrubbing my house clean. To keep the pep in my step, I turned on the 90's channel and went to work. Now, this might tell you a bit too much about my poor taste in music, but I loved the 90's. I was born in 1984, so I grew up during the last decade of the 20th century, and it will always hold a special place in my heart. It's making me think back to junior high with fond memories (even though it wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. Catholic school can be brutal). This nostalgic feeling isn't discriminatory. Even thinking back to the last few summers makes me feel warm inside on this rainy Saturday. I want to sit in front of a fire, drink a beer (or 7...what?), and think about happy things. Not cleaning the dust bunnies from under my sideboard. Hootie and the Blowfish and Savage Garden can croon to me in either scenario though.