A Good Mail Day

The other day, after a particularly frustrating day at work, I came home to find these in my mailbox:

Terry McMillan’s book, Who Asked You, will be published on September 17th and the new Ikea catalog. I’ve already dived into the catalog and I’m making myself wait a little longer before I settle in with the novel. I can’t wait!

My First Influenster Box

I’m not the greatest housekeeper in the world. Clothes left in the dryer for days. Clothes left on the floor where I took them off. I can’t blame it on my kids (don’t have any), husband (don’t have one of those either), or my busy, busy lifestyle (nope). Usually I would prefer to read a book rather than do chores. I’ve even left a sink full of dirty dishes in the kitchen sink for what seems like forever. It’s a MIRACLE that I haven’t been overrun by critters by now. (Don’t worry, it’s not bad enough to get me on a reality show.)

Well, the folks at Influenster must have a secret camera set up in here, because the very first box I received from them contained 2 full-size bottles of Palmolive Soft Touch dishwashing liquid. One is Aloe based and the other has Vitamin E. To top it all off, my apartment complex installed a brand new faucet a day earlier. All signs pointing to getting my dishes washed, yes?

So I rolled up my sleeves and dived in, so to speak. I had been using a store brand liquid before and after a couple of days using the Palmolive Aloe, I threw it in the trash. The difference in my how my hands felt afterward was the main reason. I keep an industrial size bottle of lotion next to the sink because my hands would feel like sandpaper after washing dishes (probably why I didn’t like doing it). This isn’t an issue with the Palmolive, however. I haven’t needed to immediately moisturize since I’ve started using it. And, yes, it lathers up well, cuts through grease, and leaves dishes sparkling, but my hands are important to me, too.

Oh, and I stopped in the middle of writing this post and washed my dinner dishes. I may be reformed…

I received this product complimentary for testing purposes from Influenster in exchange for my honest opinion.

My New Roommate

I just noticed that I haven’t blogged in almost a month and I need to rectify that.
I only have 2 books to review and no sewing (surprise). My mojo has apparently
left. Maybe she left because I stopped buying fabric and patterns and now she really
doesn’t care. I have to work on something to bribe her with.
In the meantime, to get me through the loss, I have a new roommate:

Isn’t he cute! He sits by my bed and illuminates me!

Time to Move!?!

I have lived in this apartment community for almost 7 years now. It is in the city and across the street from the Marta station, which is extremely convenient. My friend Imara was living here and was a classmate of the apartment manager, so I was able to get an apartment without being on a waiting list. Also, I was able to get a tax credit apartment. When the Olympics came to town there was a lot of development and they displaced a lot of residents. So, some developers that built new housing had to set aside a number of places for low-income residents in order to get a tax break from the government. So that means that I pay $541 for an apartment that normally rents for $760. Sweet deal and I don’t have to have a roommate (which I am against at this point in my life unless they are calling me wife or mommy).

So the community has gone through its changes. When I first moved in there was a good mixture of folks. Lots of students (since we are down the street from Clark, Morehouse, and Spelman), families and singles. It was pretty quiet, except after finals when the students would sometimes wild out. The management has changed and they are a little more involved with the residents.

Lately though I have been thinking it is time to move on. The booming music is getting louder. The people congregating on the stairs to talk to each other is getting on my nerves. The cigarette smoke wafting through my windows is making me ill. Having to step around the brother on the stairs with is laptop (stealing someone’s wi-fi) is uncomfortable. Listening to the girl on her phone complaining to her friend that her children’s father won’t give her money for the kid’s back to school clothes. Then she actually talks to him and wants to know why he can’t help her. It sounds like he is in jail (“I’m in this with you. I put money on your books!”), but he got money from somewhere because he is helping out his other baby’s mama. I don’t want or need to know this.

Maybe I am getting more bourgie as I get older, but while I love the hood, I don’t want to necessarily live in it anymore. My problem is that I don’t make much money and moving to a comparably sized place will cost me $200 more a month – that I don’t have. Should I start looking for another higher paying job (doing I have no idea what)? Should I leave Atlanta and seek greener pastures elsewhere, like I have been threatening to do for 10 years? Should I try to squeeze out more rent on my current salary and give up cable and Internet? Should I just stick it out and be thankful for this cheap-ass rent?

My lease isn’t up until next spring, so I guess I have a lot to think about.