I decided to organize my denim. I have them all haphazardly folded (stuffed) on the top shelf of my closet. I decided to take them down, fold them properly and then organize them by type, size and shade variant (Par example: Bootcut, 28, indigo). Don’t ask me why I decided to do this. I blame the person who runs Unfuck Your Habitat. 

Anyway, after I youtubed “How To Fold Jeans” (Not joking. I suck at all things domestic. I had to youtube “How to make a bed” a few days ago.). I got all the jeans out of my closet and folded and stacked them on my bed. I found a Seven For ALl Mankind denim mini skirt that I’ve been looking for. I also found a black knee length leather skirt that I had no idea I owned. Seriously, it’s dumb cute but I have no idea who it belongs to or why it’s in my closet. It’s a size 30 and I’m not, nor have I ever been a 30 so I’m not sure why I own it. I’m going to try it on at some point and see if I can get it tailored. I’d have to bring in the waist or make it low rise and take up the hem. I’m too short for calf length. I’ll look like Peter Dinklage. The unfucking also showed me the size that I’m most comfortable. I had more of one size than any other and I remember when I was that size and I liked it so I’m going to unfuck my working out so I can get back into them.

 So yeah, when I was done, I put them all back according to the aforementioned organization technique. When I saw all my jeans laid out, I decided to count them. I have 12 pairs of jeans and the 3 random denim skirts. Based on the fact that I have a designer denim addiction (I’ve convinced myself that those are the only jeans that fit me properly) I realized that I have over $4000 worth of denim in my closet. And those are the jeans I decided to keep. I donated a few jeans not long ago. I have no idea why I thought high waisted flares were a good idea. 

Do you know how many pairs of shoes— I mean, bills… Bills I could pay for that money? In my defense, when I was a “spoken word artist”, jeans were my stage outfit of choice so it made sense to pay money for nice ones. They were work clothes essentially. But still, I’m paying hundreds of dollars for jeans. Will I stop? no. I like my Sevens and Citizens but I will look for sales and slow down a bit. Especially since I now live in leggings because I’ve gained weight* and I feel gross. 

*Disclaimer: I feel gross. Me. I do. Myself. I’m not at the size I’m comfortable. I’m not saying that you, your mom, your cousin or your sister are gross for being overweight. I’m saying that I don’t like how *MY* weight is getting. Me. Mine. Myself. I dont’ know you. I’m not talking about you. 

I hope that covers it. I know this isn’t twitter but I feel the need to have disclaimers anyway. 

So I’m crazy disorganized. So much so that it’s become a character trait when people describe. When I was in my 20s, I was cute and young and short so people excused me. Well, not so young, still fucking cute and short though. All the methods of organization just don’t work for me. I was cutting deadlines really short and staying up until the next morning to finish articles. Just like high school… And part of why College and I didn’t get on. 

Things To Do List? Cool. Until I forget to look at it. 

Day Planner? Yeah. No.

I honestly can’t think of anything else except, “Stop being a child and get organized!” So because of the UFYH motivation and method, I have a desk. A DESK! My entire office used to be on my bed. Moving my laptop and writing stuff to a desk makes me actually do the work because it’s not as comfortable as lounging in bed. I have a desk! With a cup full of pens and scissors! It’s really exciting! Look at my use of exclamation points! 

The next thing, I still keep a TDL on my iPad BUT what I added was post-it notes. Before I go to bed, I write stuff i need to get done before noon the next day and stick it on the wall just to the left of my desk. It’s arms length away. No need to get up and go somewhere else.  Each activity gets a sticky. So I have it right there. I can’t miss it or forget it. Then, when I accomplish said task, I just pull the sticky off and toss it. Works like a freakin’ charm! 

Eventually, I think I’ll get a dry erase board. Well, maybe. I like the stickies. It’s like a game. 

So yeah. Boss!

Edit: The other good thing about the sticky method is that if you don’t do something, the sticky is just staring at you. Looking at you like, “You’re just going to ignore me? You’re just going to pretend I’m not wasting my whole life trying to help you?! LOOK AT YOUR LIFE! LOOK AT YOUR CHOICES!”

unfuckyourhabitat:

Go clear off the surface of your coffee table, end table, or kitchen counter. Don’t have any of those? Go clear off your dresser top or nightstand. You can come back in 10 minutes.

Up.

Off your ass.

Ready?

Set?

Unfuck.

I need to hire this person to come unfuck my entire life.  Um… pause. I’d probably be on my 8th book if we’d met earlier. Let’s get married. I’m not entirely sure if you’re male or female but we can move to New York.