Back on Track

Hi. Remember me? 

Oh, that's right- I have a blog. 

While it might be terribly interesting to only post a single blog every ten months and see how my life changes (a la that How I Met Your Mother Episode: Trilogy Time), I think I'd rather just try and update regularly. 

Don't hold me to it, though. 

So since my last update I have had three different jobs, including a legal administrative assistant to a huge television network... 

... and collecting on late trailer payments. 

Clearly I am living the post graduate dream.

Matt, however, has finally finished his post graduate degree and is now officially Dr. Gross... commence with the giggling. I myself will only be referred to as "Mrs. Dr. Gross."

Lately my inspirations have limited themselves to... writing a blog post regularly.

Oh, and making perfect fried chicken.

And having a washer and dryer connection.

Live big.

I have this idea that eventually I'm going to look around my one bedroom apartment and be like, "You know what- I have everything I could ever want." There's always that one obnoxious, self-righteous person going, "Somewhere in the world someone is happier with less than you have." Well now I feel crappy on top of unsatisfied... Thanks a lot.

But seriously, I'll have these grand epiphanies in the middle of the night as I'm kicking off sheets and then pulling them back on (I guess I'm just as fickle with my sleeping wants and desires) that I'm going to radically alter my life... by cleaning out my closet.

Seriously- that's always my big idea.

So,  I'll pull out my clothes and sort through them, but as I'm deciding for the tenth time if I really need that dress my father bought at Macy's in New York City, I'll look over to Matt's side of the closet and think, He really should clean out his side of the closet. This leads to me sorting through his side (which is always easier than going through my clothes) and then dragging him upstairs, away from his oh-so-important class planning (ppffftt! Real jobs are lame!). I'll point out all the the stuff he needs to get rid of, including his three blue polo shirts, the five white stripped button downs that vary thismuch, and his 1990 over-sized sweater.

This never goes over well.

I might be able to get him to agree to get rid of like, one shirt. Maybe. It depends on how recent my last life-altering closet cleaning escapade happened. 

We once had a HUGE fight about his three pairs of New Balance sneakers. I know you're saying that is ridiculous: No one needs THREE PAIRS of New Balance sneakers. Thank you for that validation. 

Maybe one day I'll be able to really take a look at all the stuff I have and genuinely sort through it to what I need. I'd like to think I could be one of those people who recognize that the simple things make them happy, like a cup of coffee on a rainy day with a book of Browning's poetry. 

I don't know why I always imagine that with poetry- but I do. Perhaps because I never read poetry. Rather than that sweet image, I'm the girl forgetting she had a cup of coffee next to her, even though she has reheated it three time since her sweet husband put a pot on for her that morning, or that it was even raining, as I've been stuck on the same Zelda boss for days (weeks.) 

Obviously I'm a work in progress.