I like to think of myself as sort of a minimalist, but the amount of stuff I have thrown out or donated over the last few months says otherwise.
I tackled the master bedroom this week, and aside from throwing stuff out I also did a thorough cleaning of the place for what may have been the first time since we moved here 7 years ago.
Dusting in particular has never been a favorite pastime of mine, and since no one ever goes in the master bedroom it's dead last on my list of Important Places to Clean. I'd started to feel like Miss Havisham every time I went in there, though, so I knew it was time.
While decluttering, I noticed that some things were easy to get rid of (framed print of a Waterhouse painting that hung in my room in high school, I'm looking at you) but others were a little harder.
Both Phillip and I had wristwatches that have been sitting in the nightstand forever. Of course the batteries are dead now and we don't even need them because phones. But I kept saying, "I just hate to get rid of it! It's a nice watch. If I wore a watch it would be this one..."
Ultimately I decided that was like saying "But it's a perfectly good telegraph machine! I can't just throw it away!" And into the donate pile it went. Maybe someone can take it back to 1995 and find a use for it.
I love the voice search feature on my smartphone. I rarely have both hands free to type, but I can say "Okay Google, how to remove crayon from EVERYTHING" and voila: a page full of results.
But there's one thing I dislike about voice search. Actually, I hate it. The phrase "Okay Google."
Not only is it long, cumbersome, and makes you sound stupid in public, I can't even say it. I choke on all the 'k' and 'g' sounds and end up gargling the back of my tongue.
Anyway, I was in the kitchen complaining to Phillip in my signature hyperbolic fashion, saying something like "'Okay Google' is literally the worst phrase they could have picked!" when a robot voice from the cabinet right next to my head said "Literally: in a literal manner or sense; exactly."
After I peed my pants because what the heck was that, I realized my phone had been charging in the cabinet, listening to me.
Now I'm feeling rather paranoid, in an Orwellian Big Brother sort of way.
The last take is extra-creepy because also this week I heard an anecdotal story from Phillip's coworker that the Facebook app is using her microphone to listen in on her conversations and show her relevant ads.
Seriously, there's been controversy about whether this is actually happening.
I'm not brave enough to start Googling it though. I'm afraid if I ask too many questions, my body will be found washed up under an abandoned pier in New Jersey.
I'm really not sure if I'm the only one, but I've always thought that "Do you want more kids?" is a strange question.
Apparently it must resonate with a broader audience, though, because a piece I wrote called "Please Stop Asking Me If I Want More Kids" was picked up by Scary Mommy yesterday. What do you think?
My advice to new parents would be: schedule as many pajama-oriented activities as you can, for as long as you can. It makes life easier.
In preschool my daughter was studying the letter N this week so they had "nighttime" themed preschool (translation: she got to wear her pajamas.) Plus a few weeks ago, our playgroup had a pajama party.
Now if only I could find these sorts of events for myself...
Every now and then I get emails encouraging me to shop using the rewards points I've earned, but I didn't find this one to be very motivational:
Just the start, you say? You mean there's more?
Shopping spree this weekend! I've got $0.00 to burn!