I am not sure that this topic could get any duller

but I am popping back in to outline my 31 days of organizing/purging.  Yup, this post will be about cleaning our little apartment.  Much, much larger than the last one, but oddly lacking in any type of closet space.  I am actually planning to try and post every day for the next 31 days on this apartment topic.  And hopefully not only will the clean apartment "clean my soul," or some such thing, but it will help me to write about the bigger, slightly more germain topics too.  Let's see, those probably should include my deep anger towards my husband for his enforced 6 month ban on visiting the IF clinic (sad but true, I am super pissed.  Also counting down the days), dropping out of grad school (or not, maybe this will even be resolved in 31 days), and having my lifelong insulin resistance develop into diabetes (whew, haven't even mentioned that one to JD.  Plus, who knows what it means.  But I am on an all-new low carb and exercise binge and a plague on big, awful insurance companies that leave automated voice messages telling you you have diabetes ;-)).  Plus, you know, the usual ongoing saga of trying to grow my pint-sized second child onto the growth charts.

In the meantime, the apartment goal: clean, sweet, looking like a cross between a grown-up mid-century modern downtown apartment and a "playful learning space" for toddlers.  Honestly, I just want evening clean up to be easy and to not have clutter on the counter/shelves/playroom/living room floor.

The challenge: practically no closets.  The master bedroom has no closet.  There is no pantry or linen closet.  One bathroom has not so much as a shelf.  All of my clothes are in the "playroom" closet which has no hanging space for dresses, and also houses most of the large toys like blocks.  The kid's closet currently houses as many of their to-be-grown-into/special occasion/choking hazard so not okay for playdates toys.  The laundryoom and bathroom shelves are taken up with art supplies. 

In short, the game plan is to severely cut down on stuff.  And try to figure out what to do about book storage since I absolutely refuse to get rid of good children's hardcover books while we have small children who like to read them.  My school books are already half in storage, and I will par them down again.

And if you are wondering why this is all so absurd?  Well, we moved less than 2 months ago and I have already down a fairly thorough purge.  But now that we are in a new place (and it has no closets!  Whee!) it's much easier to see everything that needs to be done.

A few fun highlights: must weed out the few awful kids books, stash holiday kids books away, sell some of my books, organize sewing supplies, tackle last 3 boxes from the move, sell a few random pieces of furniture or donate, label dairy and meat for pots and knives, finish hanging photos on the wall, resort children's clothes, get rid of 10-30 more articles of my clothing, organize toiletries ... thrilling eh?

And who knows?  By the time this is up hopefully I'll have a clean apartment, finished up a silly hourly job that is running late into the night, have discovered a fount of new low-carb-but-also-fatten-up-your-failure-to-thrive-child-and-feed-the-one-who-doesn't-eat-veggies recipes, and have a husband who desperately and urgently wants me pregnant.  Anyway, he promised I could purchase a porch swing if I cleaned for 31 days and that's good for sitting on and crying away the late evening hours, right?

Apologies to my few long-time readers about the dull subject.  Tonight's cleaning was brief: sort and fold the "linen closet" (top shelf in the laundry room) and sort the art supplies in the laundry room.  I got rid of one full sheet set and put 3 pairs of shoes into the goodwill pile (yes, my shoes are also in the laundry room.  We're short shelves).  Up next: the bill paying/art desk/towel and cloth napkin desk in the kitchen.

Karma

was not on my side yestoday.  Inspired by some time in my friend's pool and feeling decidedly sore after a morning of snorkeling last week (tough life, I know) I went swimming today.  Glorious, lovely swimming in a free local pool.  Warm water, glass walls which make it appear outdoors, even a dreamy, muscular guy in the lane over ... and somehow I managed to break my toe.  Karma, not on my side.  My lane mate was a bit of a wild card and in trying to avoid getting kicked I swerved and kicked my foot hard into the pool ladder.

And now my middle toe is blue and swollen and rather uncomfortable.  For once Dr. Google suggests that a trip to the doctor will be unnecessary and this is unlikely to progress into anything too awful.  Except ... I walk 4-6 miles a day pushing a heavy double stroller and I really doubt I can do that this week.  Or next at this rate.  I'm currently having trouble just wandering up and down the hall in my own apartment.

Updated to add: dragged myself to the doctor in hopes of speeding up recovery.  She was duly horrified about my foot and promptly ordered an air cast, tape to pin the toes together and a large does of anti-inflammatory pain meds.  We discussed at lengthy why she would recommend these even though trace amounts will assuredly enter the breastmilk (namely, they are all safe for kids the dumpling's age ...) and I was totally sold until a small, very dim light bulb finally flickered on while waiting to pick up the prescription: anti-inflammatories that enter the breastmilk ... on the very week that we are doing an endoscopy to look for inflammation ... seems like a bad idea.  So for now I am trying to spend as much time on the couch as possible, not freak out about not having finished unpacking a full month after moving, and adjust to driving absolutely everywhere for at least a week.

I guess this is why I wasn't in such a rush to get back to the gym.

Writing again

Some people move to a new city, quit their job (sort-of, but nevertheless very unpleasantly), realize that they are again newly-isolated in a strange new city and throw themselves into getting acquainted.  Or hide in their new apartments and devotedly rearrange furniture.  I ... well ... I panicked, mostly about the fact that the dumpling turns 2 this weekend ... which really explains why the kids and I hopped on a flight (many, actually) to Hawaii on 4 days notice.

Hence, sitting on the couch overlooking the pool listening to the wind blow through the house and the rain drip out of the trees.  Mostly relaxed, definitely pleased with this most recent distraction from reality, but also with moments of total panic.

It's hard to explain to your dear friend that the reason you need a break from snorkeling in one of the most beautiful places in the world (less crowded in the winter, let me add) has nothing to do with the temperature or a little surf, and everything to do with a total panic attack about what you are doing as you approach your 32nd birthday and have no career.  Or income (said friend has never worked post-college, so it's really not the best subject to discuss with her, although she is very well aware of the luxury of her unemployment).  Or the fact that the major children's hospital can't even tell you what time your son's totally minor surgery will be scheduled for next week, and thus you have no idea if you will need to find a babysitter for your older child's school pick up (see above: new to town, no local friends, husband who works all the time).  Also wondering whether you should try and communicate to the doctors that your son currently has hand, foot and mouth disease, although since it took over 3 weeks to get a response last time, probably not worth the effort.

All to say that I have a lot to write about.  Not much of it happy.  But hopefully we'll get there eventually.  And in the meantime, one last day at the beach before we pack it up and head back to the East coast.