I’ve been on a real cleaning out roll. This past Saturday, I cleaned out the yard. I rake a bunch of leaves, chopped down a bunch of that annoying bamboo I’ve told you about before, and apparently got into poison ivy. Which is so great, because you don’t realize you have gotten into it until it is too late. I didn’t see any leaves: I live in Texas… I KNOW what it looks like. So I must have gotten into the roots, which I read is worse than getting into the leaves.
Saturday night, my leg started itching. This morning, my legs (and one arm) are covered and big, red, raw, itchy patches. Nothing seemed to help. I tried two creams, which only helped as long as I was
scratching rubbing them on. I kept thinking about that Friends episode where Phoebe and Charlie Sheen get the chickpox and Monica tapes oven mitts to their hands so they won’t scratch. But that rip them off with their teeth and scratch each other in this funny, awkward scene. I felt like that. Scratching it felt so good. Until you stopped. Ahhhhh!
I went home from work early, because I couldn’t think of anything else. I looked up some home remedies and decided on an oatmeal paste. Yum. I made a cup, stirring in 2 tbsp baking soda and tasted it to make sure it wasn’t too hot for my skin. It. Was. Disgusting. Really salty.
So Jordan came home to find me lying on the bed, legs splayed out over three towels, covered in gooey oatmeal. He said it looked like I was laying in puke. Which it kind of did. The dog was real interested. But it helped. I later took an apple cider vinegar bath (boy, do I smell pretty now!) and then dabbed some tea tree oil all over it. Surprisingly, I’m not trying to claw my legs to death like I was earlier. Improvement!
But before it set in, I was able to do some serious cleaning out of my bedroom Sunday.
My mom bought me a jewelry bag holder thing for Christmas (which I absolutely LOVE!), so instead of having my jewelry still in little boxes, all crammed into an Eiffel Tower tin, they are neatly gathered in my hanging bag. It now hangs out of the way in my closet. But I didn’t stop there. I cleaned out my jewelry box and crap that sits on top of the dresser, so you can see the top of the dresser now.
The five+ things I got rid of. I counted the clothes as separate items, but lumps them into groups.
1) 7 pairs of pants my naive hidden skinny self has given up on ever fitting into again. I mean, I had a size 4! Who are we kidding, here? Never gonna happen. 2) 3 pairs of shorts. Can’t even get one thing into them now. I can’t believe they ever fit. My childbirthing hips are my enemy now. 3) 4 shirts. I can’t even remember what they are now, so I must not be missing them. 4) 2 Sweaters that my sister will inherit. 5) 1 dress. Again, I will never fit into that sexy little black spaghetti strap number again. Not with these thighs. 6) 4 skirts. Scratch that. 3 skirts. I put one back in a moment where my hopeful skinny self spoke up. She’s very convincing. 7) Some random crap from my makeup tray: nail files, eye shadows… 8) And one more item from the bathroom -some old baby wash clothes.
I also organized my sock drawer (I KNOW!… but it will never stay that way) and my lingerie chest, and a little of the closet.
I was hoping to start running again today, but I didn’t figure sweat from running and my poison ivy would mix well. There’s always tomorrow. I am very hopeful with my tea tree oil!