I cannot contain myself. There are a hundred things that I should do right now besides write a blog post. Yet, I find myself sitting cross-legged on my freshly-slipcovered couch, typing away.
Yesterday I moved into my first apartment, and I cannot wait to share some photos.
In a way, this apartment fell in my lap. A friend from PIU (whom we will call R) rented a furnished basement apartment from a couple who attends a nearby Baptist church. R graduated in May, and she moved to another part of town to rent an apartment with friends. I asked R if her landlords planned to find another renter after she moved out, and the rest is history.
I finally finished cleaning, rearranging, and decorating my dorm room just in time for residential students to move in later today.
I thought I would give y’all a quick tour of my abode for the next nine months…my last nine months of undergrad!
Every room is furnished to house two students. Even though I am in a single-occupancy room, I have two dressers, two closets, two desks, and two beds (and therefore, twice the space to hide all of my junk).
As expected, I have a lot of pictures hanging in my room. Anyone want to guess how many?
It’s only appropriate that the library was trying to discard this Chris Rice CD. I have used YouTube (because I am old school) to listen to various songs from it on repeat for the last three years of college. Now I can quit typing song names in the YouTube search box.
I spent a long time decorating my door, and I am so proud of it! I would much rather stare at my door than get started on the school work that my syllabi say I have to do, but if I want to graduate in May, I better wrap up this post and get to work!
As of Sunday, I am another year older. If turning eighteen makes you a legal adult, turning twenty-one must signal that you are well-experienced in life.
I am a numbers person, and it is easy for me to get bogged down with stats. Twenty-one years…that’s 7,671 days. 184,104 hours. 11,046,240 minutes. 662,774,400 seconds. I wonder how many miles I’ve traveled in that time? How many faces have I seen? How many books have I read? How many hairs have I brushed off of my scalp (you other long-haired people know the struggle!)? How many peanut butter sandwiches have I eaten?
Those numbers would be interesting to know, but they really are not important. Those numbers do not make me who I am. Everyday, God reminds me that only one number matters: the number of times Christ died for my sins: once and for all (Hebrews 9:28). As a result, my life can last for an infinite number of years.
Ten Numbers that Do Not Define Me
- My age
- The speed at which I can run a mile
- My grades
- The number of classes I take
- My height
- The number of hours I work
- The number of push-ups I can do
- The amount of time I study
- My bank account balance
- The number of friends I have
One Number that Defines Me
- The number of times Christ died so that I can be made holy – One
Because of God’s will, we are made holy through the sacrifice Christ made in his body once and for all time.
– Hebrews 10:10
It all started in the shower (admit it–this is where you do all of your thinking). I was mentally planning my weekend, and I knew that shopping was definitely on the agenda (along with the ubiquitous studying, of course). But what stores? Are there any coupons available? What exactly did I need? Suddenly, my mind was racing.
This is typical for me. I never have a solitary thought. Even when I appear focused on one duty (writing a blog post, for example), I am usually working on some other tasks as well (such trying to find a specific dress for a cheaper price). Needless to say, I am that person who never has less than three tabs open on my web browser.
Maybe that is why I hate disorganized clutter so much–my mind is so busy that I cannot handle an exterior mess as well.
Here is just a glimpse of the lifespan of a thought in my mind.
I have an embarrassing number of shirts. I considered counting just my school shirts to give you an idea how high that number is, but (like I said) it’s embarrassing. When you consider that I also have dozens of t-shirts from playing sports in high school, the number becomes alarmingly massive. It’s bad.
You may be thinking to yourself, “She lives in a dorm room! Where does she keep them all?”
It gets tight, but there are ways to fit everything in the drawers and closet.
Here, let me show you some options…
Ten Ways to Store Shirts
1. The Quarter Fold
2. The Store-style Fold
3. The File Fold*
*This is how I store my t-shirts. Yes, they are in ROY G. BIV order because I
may or may not be am OCD.
4. The “I Bought Every Hanger at Dollar General” Hang
5. The “I Ran Out of Hangers” Hang
6. The Sausage Roll
7. The “Is this Clean?” Wad*
*This seems to be my brother’s go-to method.
8. The “I Forgot I Owned This!” Smash
9. The Lazy Hang
10. The “I Only Need to Fit One More Shirt In Here!” Bundle
Hope you enjoyed this laughable post!
How do you store your shirts?