Cleaning works.

Today in my teenage angst, cleaning worked.

I had this roommate who was a cleaner. She didn't clean because she liked cleanliness. I truly believe that that was just a byproduct of her habit. She cleaned, rather, because she liked the order that cleanliness provided. She didn't require us to adopt the same habit, though our lack of any cleansing habit was a bit of a strain; the cleaning was mostly for her.

Today, I understand this habit. I figured it out the other day when I was babysitting four children. It was the first time I'd been with them and four was the most I'd ever taken care of at once. I swept the dining room, cleaned the kitchen, took out the trash and tidied the living room in order to keep my sanity. Last year, if I was ever in a state of panic or on the verge of tears, I'd take myself home and do the dishes. Cleaning works.

Cleaning provides the order and stability that many of us need to keep our mental and emotional state in check. It also provides us with a better state of living, approved by greater north america. I get it. Next time you get off the phone after a frustrating conversation or come home after a disgusting day at work or have too many children to keep track of without fear of one dying, clean; for happier and healthier you will be. 


PS. Here's a Moncton pic. 
Or rather, PEI. 

Hard-boiled blunders.

Today in my teenage angst, I failed to do the simplest of household tasks. I hard-boiled some eggs and failed. Look at the goiter on that egg. Gross. It reminds me of Spartacus. 


This was not my first egg fail. The first two times I boiled eggs (in my third year of college) they weren't fully cooked. The next time I devised that if I just boiled until the water was gone, they'd have to be cooked all the way through. Then I forgot about them boiling on the stove and one of the eggs blew up. 


It's funny how some of us miss those things growing up. It's not that I couldn't have learned, I just simply didn't want to. And now as an almost 23 year old, I am still failing at boiling eggs. That's the inside of the goiter egg. 


It's my goal this summer to learn to barbecue, so I'm on the road to rectification in the food realm. 



Here's a phot from Moncton. Well, actually this was in Halifax.


For the record. I don't plan on blogging about my trip to Moncton because the post would be so long that no one would read it. So let it be said that it was THE best trip. The photos are evidence. 

Sucktastic.

Today in my teenage angst, I realized that I suck with a minor proficiency. My presence in the blog world shut down for a month and a half before I even noticed. I don't know how it happened.

Wait, yes I do.

The last week of school came; then grad came; then my week of packing from hell came; then I worked Mother's Day at the flower shop (which is never happening again - mother's day or any other season); then I flew to NB with Laura. I checked my blog with a sort of frequency to read other people's updates but I have three readers so I didn't feel that bad about posting myself.

I don't really plan on blogging regarding my trip, though I may post a nice pic every now and then. I do plan, however, on posting a review of an English pub in Halifax on my other blog.

Funny thing though - one of my flights featured Bette Midler as my flight attendant. Not actually, but she had the hair, the teeth and the nose. It was beyond. My sister told me I should have asked her to sing a song. I still can't figure out why I didn't.