Water, Water, Everywhere and Way Too Much to Drink

Some observations I have made about water, which I am trying to drink more of:

1. It does not taste very exciting. Have you ever thought you were going to drink water but it was really Sprite? This is the opposite. I keep hoping it will taste better and it never does.

2. My plant, Neville, also drinks it. When I remember to give it to him.

3. It doesn't taste better if I drink it out of my big yellow cup that I just bought at Target specifically for the purpose of drinking water. And it's even called a "tumbler," not a cup.

4. It isn't a huge problem when (not if) I spill it on myself because hey, it's just water. So...that's good.

5. My skin isn't glowing yet because of it, but I'll keep you informed

6. Isn't there some disease where you become repulsed by water? I think I have that now.

7. Drinking lots of water doesn't make me stop craving more meaningful things like chocolate. Wow, I really want to eat chocolate. I know! I'll drink a huge tumblerful of water instead! Yum, that really hits the spot. I could do this all day! Not.

8. Sometimes I forget to drink it for a few hours, then feel like I have to chug it. That feels like not exercising for a few days, then attempting to run a marathon.

9. Drinking green tea can count as drinking water, since I don't add sugar. It's just water and a green teabag. However, drinking sugarless green tea is like drinking blended grass. Is this really what I've become? My only options are a big yellow "tumbler" of cold water or a mug of liquid plant matter?

10. This post is making me thirsty. Great, all this water and I'm still dehydrated.


Is this glass half-full or half-empty? Who really cares?

Crazy Day in the Life

I had a crazy day at the library yesterday.

We were busy all day and I never really had time to stop and catch my breath. Days like this are good once in a while, but I think I'd go nuts if I worked somewhere that was hectic all the time. The other librarians joke about the library not being an emergency room and no one's going to die... meaning that we shouldn't have to feel pressure. If I worked in an emergency room, I would probably

not. I would not work in an emergency room.

The craziest I want my day to get is to have a kid crying because he has to leave the train table, two library cards I'm trying to register at once, the phone ringing, an overflowing bookdrop, and a patron wondering where the bathroom is.

Seriously? the bathroom? Everyone has to walk right by it to get into the library, yet this is one of the most commonly asked questions. Whatever; at least it's one I can answer. Those are the best kind of questions.

When I get home from work, whether it's a crazy day like yesterday or a normal day, I take an unofficial vow of silence. Being an introvert, I have used up my quota of words for the day. I have smiled until my cheeks hurt, answered the phone until  I sound like a robot, and talked until my own voice sounds odd to my ears. When I get home, all I want to do is sit down, stare into space, and keep my mouth closed.

Yeah, I know what you're thinking. We librarians have quite the wild night life. Well, I can't speak for the entire demographic, but as for me? Give me a cup of tea and my socks with little snowflakes on them.

There Are Worse Addictions...

I have fifteen scarves. I just counted them. Is that too many? Are you judging me right now? Just...stop, okay? You don't understand.

I need scarves. They're just so cute!

A scarf is forgiving. It always fits and drapes the same way it did last time. It dresses up a boring outfit and it gives my hands something to fiddle with when I'm nervous or bored. When I'm wearing a scarf, I have something I can fling carelessly over my shoulder to make a glamorous exit or to punctuate a particularly smart remark.

And each scarf has a story. Some I bought on Black Friday (different years..). Some were gifts. Some I got for such incredible good deals that I was unable to resist. Some I wore during certain memorable events in my life.

Is fifteen scarves too many? If so, why do I STILL have trouble finding the right one sometimes?

And why do I have a strange longing to make it an even twenty?

Neville.

I think Neville hates me.

Neville is my plant. The plant I got for Christmas. The plant that sits on my desk in the library.

I'm always poking him to see if he's dying. I think he's getting kind of sick of me fussing and clucking over him. But I keep finding little dead leaves on him!

Sometimes I forget to water him, then I try to make up for it by giving him extra next time. But he spits it all out.

I'm doing all I can here, buddy! Work with me!

I'm a little afraid of Neville. I think he senses that fear and uses it against me. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he just up and died, just to upset me.

Am I overthinking this relationship?

I Went to the Gym

So I went to the local gym for the first time a couple days ago. I got this free three-day trial coupon, which inspired me to give it a go. Um, a coupon? I'm there.

I go in and am all intimidated at first, worried:

-is what I wore okay?
-is everyone looking at me?
-what if I look stupid?
-can everyone tell that I've only exercised in my basement before?

and then observant:

-sweet, look at all those tvs!
-this is a lot of sweat in one room.
-wow, that guy is ripped!
-there are some New Year's resolution people here.

And so I realize
1. I need to get a grip and not be so self-conscious.
2. the gym is an excellent place to practice one of my hobbies, people-watching.

I know that it seems like people are always saying how much they dread going to the gym, but I am super pumped. I am finally at a place in my life where I have been consistently working out for a few months and have even enjoyed it. So going to a gym seems like exercise, but "special." Yay, special exercise!

I haven't joined officially, but I will very soon. And then I'm going to be one of those cool gym people. I won't just burn calories, I will TORCH them. Grrrrr.....

#1 Make a List

At the end of the day, if I have just slogged through and wasted time and not accomplished anything... I feel like bursting into tears. And then eating chocolate. And then wasting more time.

For me, it's always better to have a list, so I can be purposeful in my activity. When I get home from work I make dozens of little choices. These choices can mean the difference between going to bed tired and happy or going to bed depressed and on a sugar high.

I am a very list-y person. Post-it notes, scrap paper, the back of an old library receipt...it doesn't matter what the list is written on. Sometimes my head gets full of things I want/need to accomplish, and I have to get it down as fast as I can so I can organize my thoughts.

A good list is all about balance. For example:

List A
1. Arrange all books in the house alphabetically.
2. Clean the whole house.
3. Make a gourmet dinner, trying out fifteen new ingredients.
4. Scrapbook the last five years of my life.
5. Write twenty new blog posts.

List B
1. Hang up coat.
2. Put on socks.
3. Stack library books.
4. Eat cereal.
5. Turn on computer.

Obviously, neither one of these lists will do much good. List A will make me feel inadequate and List B will make me feel overconfident in the smallest things. Like tying my shoes or something.

What I need in my lists are some quicker things that will make me feel good to check off quickly, as well as some things that really need to get done but might be a bit more challenging.

Also, one thing I have already done. So I can check that thing off right away and ride that feeling of accomplishment all the way down the rest of the list. Oh, yeah....

Oopsy Daisy

I never used to be such a klutz. Probably because you can't get many injuries with your nose stuck in a book during your entire childhood. Unless you try to walk and read at the same time. Which is possible and yes, even enjoyable, by the way.

Anyway, I feel like I've whacked my knees on benches and beds and chairs more times in the last couple months than in my entire life. Why have I suddenly become so uncoordinated?

 I'm sitting here with an almost-healed bruise on my left knee that, about a week and a half ago, was a brilliant purple blob about the size of a chocolate chip cookie. Yesterday, I lumbered into the piano bench with my right knee and we're looking at the beginning stages of a bruise about the size of a quarter. What is my deal?

Thank goodness that there's one good thing about having a bruise: showing it off.

It doesn't matter how many times my sister says she doesn't want to see it; it's obvious she does. When you get a good, impressive bruise, you have to share it with anybody (un)fortunate enough to be near you.

"Hey there." Starts rolling up pant leg... "Take a look at THIS!"

Now, if I only had more glamorous stories to go along with my injuries...hmm...possibly library related?