stephanieNY

For a few reasons:

• I discovered last night that the laundry room in the basement of my building is out of order.
• The laundromat was closed by the time I made the discovery.
• Doing laundry at a laundromat is so time consuming...time that I don't have today or tomorrow or the next day.

Sooooo, today while I'm at school working all day, a nice lady at the laundromat is cleaning my clothes for me. Weird, right? I've never done drop-off/pick-up service before.  Even though I'm kind of weirded out by it, I was left with no choice today.  I never wanted to be the kind of person that doesn't have time to do their own laundry.  Great.

I'm living the last few hours of my twenties...right now! Feels like kind of a big deal. Like there's something I should be doing or getting done in these final hours, before it's too late for me. Yikes!

I left New York for 10 days to go to Russia, and then after 4 days back in New York, I left again for 4 days in Boston. I'm feeling the effects this week. It was all worth it but I just wish that school had a little more wiggle room for life stuff. Don't get me wrong, I do stuff and go places when I want. School is definitely not disabling. It just gets mad when you don't spend the weekend with it. And you end up having to coddle it and spend overtime with it when you return (plus deal with the guilt). School makes sure that weekends aren't really weekends, even when they're long.

On my list of things to do as soon as school stops breathing down my neck for the week (around 6:00 on Friday, until it resumes its position Saturday late morning-ish):

• upload pictures from Russia to the site
• upload pictures from long weekend in Boston to the site
• eat something from my kitchen and not from the caf at school or a delivery man
• watch Monday's Gossip Girl episode
• sleep for a really long time

Cue the mocking tiny violin hand gesture.

Yesterday I took my second spill in a week. My right leg is yelping for mercy at this point. Last week I bit it outside of a restaurant in Moscow, when I stepped on a precarious depression in the middle of the sidewalk. My ankle twisted under pressure and I landed sitting upright on my right foot, with left leg straight out in front of me, and both arms stretched out to each side for balance. It was like a curtsey gone wrong. It felt pretty controlled and I'd like to think it looked relatively graceful. On the contrary, yesterday's spill was a hot mess. I slipped on the marble staircase in my apartment building while shlepping three+ bags to school. In slow motion, the handrail slipped from my grasp in three separate attempts before I finally grabbed on half-way down. I landed in a similar position (right leg folded under me) but this time, the edge of the marble tread slammed into my knee cap. Ouch! This one left an egg, well more like an almond or some other medium-sized nut. But still, it hurts.

Mercy.