I used to be a blogger

Whenever I read about how another blogger, no, let me correct myself, a blogger is feeling bad because she's out of touch, and then goes on to explain in detail why, it reminds me just how out of touch I am now. Because I'm always way more out of touch than they are. Way, way more. I basically read about three blogs now. No, strike that. At any one time I may, on a good day, read three blogs. But that covers about 10 actual blogs - it's just that some of them may only get read once in three months, whereas others I might read, ooh, as often as once every three days. Not three times a day as I sometimes used to.

It's my own fault, I know. But where do you fit once you've had an infertility blog and then given up? Most infertility blogs morph into mommy blogs, and hooray for that. But I'm not even writing about getting on with life after infertility. I mean, sure, I could post every time I'm wistful, or jealous, or bitter, or even dream about something (last night I dreamt I had a fantastic beta result - that was a disappointing wake up moment, I can tell ya). But I think that would rapidly get boring, because who wants to hear all the time that I'm wistful? Or even, happy. Because, yes, most of the time I'm actually happy these days. Thank GOD I am not going through infertility any more. Thank the little baby jesus for that.

So instead, I don't blog about anything really. Which is even more boring I'm sure. So here are some snippets:

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I have finally discovered hulu.com. And am working my way through the entire back catalog of Arrested Development. Love that show! And by the way, has anyone seen Dr. Horrible's Singalong Blog? Genius.

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I have, for the first time ever, almost thrown out some books. I say "almost" because I have two piles - one to go to work to our employee "library" and one pile to go in the recycling bin (all useless free books that came with magazines that are really more booklets than books). But they haven't made it out of the house yet, and so I could still chicken out.

You see, I am trying to pare down my stuff so that it actually fits within the storage that I have available. So far this week I've worked through my closet (apart from the shoes and dresses) and my t-shirt drawer. And one bookshelf. It's a start people, it's a start. I have this dream of living this very minimalist, organized, neat and tidy life, which is sadly always destroyed due to my love of shopping. And my habit of not fitting into 3/4 of my clothes as I gain and lose weight. But really, there's no need for me to have 5 pairs of black ballet flats. Or 7 pairs of sneakers. Or 6 pairs of black pants. I am slooowly improving on that score. Why, just this week I resisted buying another pair of sneakers, but instead am throwing away the pair that I've been wearing as they're now falling apart, and have dug an old pair out of the back of the closet. So what if they made my feet bleed the last time I wore them? I will wear them in and make use of them, damn it.

One of these days I shall be that elegant lady who lives in a miniscule apartment with minimal possessions, but each of whose possessions are treasured, wonderful quality, just so, and fabulous. Even if it takes me until I am 90.

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Still haven't rejoined a dating site. But I'm still working on it. Kinda sorta.

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Cousin was not sent overboard by Hurricane Bill. But last heard of was in danger due to (remains of?) tropical storm Danny. Ah well, I'm sure they will go back out to sea again, and ride this one out too.

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I'm actually looking forward to school starting up again. At least while at school I'm busy as anything and feeling like life has a purpose. The many evenings of doing nothing this week have just been a reminder of my lack of social life. Hence trying to update my blog on a Saturday night instead of going out and having fun. Bleh. OK, back off to hulu...