You Might Be a Hotel Maid if...

I recently went back to work at the same motel where I worked in high school.  This Memorial Day weekend has been a typically busy holiday weekend, and I will have worked three cleaning shifts by the time the weekend is up.  I will say this: cleaning motel rooms does not get any easier, cooler, or less disgusting after college.  It does, however, leave me with a LOT of time by myself to think (I keep forgetting my iPod, so talking to myself happens), and I have come up with a list of idiosyncrasies that occur among hotel maids.  And so, a la Jeff Foxworthy, you might be a hotel maid if:

1. You can make a queen bed in under four minutes, but the bed you sleep in hasn't been made since you last washed the sheets (quite possibly a while ago).
2. You come home from work with pockets stuffed full of used dryer sheets that got folded into the laundry.
3. When staying at a hotel, you always tip the maid.
4. You haven't dusted your own home for the better part of a year.
5. You have a favorite cleaner for wood, tile, stainless, fiberglass, and carpet, but none of them are made by the same company.
6. You can spot a hair on the floor at twenty feet.
7. You can't accomplish anything if your hair isn't in a ponytail.
8. When staying at a hotel, you refuse to brush your hair unless standing on carpet (because it's easier to vacuum it up than wipe it off the bathroom tile).
9. You want to physically harm anyone with the audacity to actually use the in-room microwave.

Thank God I don't work for a chain.

I wear jeans and a T-shirt.

Any fellow maids out there?  What did I miss?

Be safe this Memorial Day!

Graduating and Packing and UNpacking, Oh My!

Well in the blog description, I wrote "I firmly believe something about life is always changing."  Or, in this case, a lot of somethings.  I graduated from college four days ago.  Six days ago, I was quite literally still taking tests, and now I have gone through Baccalaureate and Commencement, packed up ALL of my things, scrubbed my apartment (which is now no longer even mine because I signed the papers and handed in my keys), driven 250 miles back to my parents' house, and begun the ridiculous process that is moving an entire apartment's worth of crap into one bedroom.  Oh, and begun truly fretting about the whole finding a job thing.  Update: In between drafting this post and posting it, I actually DID get a part-time job and some other opportunities opened up as well.  More on that another blog.

The unpacking thing is miserable.  Because I have so much crap, I cannot merely unpack the boxes/bins/bags and put things away.  I  have to go through everything in my room and clean out, throw out, donate, and reorganize.  Typically, I would be okay with that as I love organizing things, but in this case, I've had to face some ugly truths about myself, including the following:

1. In the past several years (while earning my Bachelor's degree) I have spent, at most, four months at home.  My theory throughout that time was apparently "stick it in a pile and clean it up later."
2. I have an obsession with Post-Its/mini-notebooks/notepads that is bordering on dysfunctional (I already knew about the addiction, I just didn't realize how bad it was, as demonstrated by the picture below - and the picture barely does it justice.).
3. I get WAY too emotionally attached to things.  It's a bit insane how much crap from elementary, junior high, and high school I have saved.  At one point, I apparently thought saving every test and paper with an A on it was a good scheme.  Believe me, I do not have the space necessary for that.  Also on the list of things that are weirdly hard for me to throw away are socks, journals from sixth grade, jewelry I have never worn, and any movie stub.
4. I cannot get rid of anything that I, my nephew, or my future children might want OR that may have another useful purpose after a bit of refashioning.  I am certain this is one of the genetic quirks passed on by my mother, as she often joins me in my reusing pursuits. (I'll blog more about this later - make your own notepads; this combines basically everything I love).

It starts to feel a bit like I should have my own episode of Hoarders.  Four bags of garbage later, I swear the piles have not gotten any smaller.  As much as it annoys me to no end, I can't really be mad about #3 or 4.  Being thrifty and frugal in the economy can only be good, right?  And at least if I'm attached to something, it means I care.  Finding ways to mesh all these sides of myself and situations together is just part of the beautiful mess.

My stash from #2.  This doesn't even include the DIY ones.

I haven't finished unpacking yet either.  Who knows what I'll find?