Why Plucking My Eyebrows Is More Important Than Laundry

I hardly ever do laundry. Not because I like wearing dirty clothes. In fact I hardly wear the same thing twice. My laundry basket *cough* two *cough* laundry baskets and my wardrobe can withstand a 3 month foray into not visiting the laundry room. I don't know what that says about me aside from... girl you have too many clothes... but most days I can survive by just wearing something I don't love... and just wearing something I like.

But today.

This day.

It had to get done.

Because I was going to have a busy weekend of looking at apartments. Working overtime. And watching "For a Good Time Call."

This Movie is Going to Change My Life - I can just FEEEEL it.


The Laundry basket had finally eaten my last pair of good underwear and there are few things more hated in this world than wearing the uncomfortable newer Hanes I had bought a few months ago and promptly only wore once before they were destined to a life in the "UGH-I'm-Not-Wearing-That-Drawer"

So tonight was the night.

I was going to take over the laundry room and be done in 2 hours!

So I thought.

I got home and started opening mail, while on the phone with my Mom. Nothing really exciting, a new debit card, some bills, the usual.

My mom bid me goodnight and I started flinging the remnants of my wardrobe from the past week strewn about my apartment into the laundry basket.

Found my laundry card.

Found the cash to put on the laundry card.

Looked for my laundry room key.

Looked for my laundry room key fob.

Looked for both of them again.

Found - 1 pair of high quality tweezers, which I hadn't been able to find for the last few months in a bag I had been carrying... then.

Squealed in delight and ran to the magnifying mirror on my closet door.

Slammed my foot into the closet door... started profusely bleeding.

Serious.

It was straight out of a slasher film.

Blood was pouring from my toe.

I cursed loudly leaning on the closet mirror when something caught my eye.

My brows.

They needed a hedge-trimmer.

I looked at my toe.

I looked at my brows.

I looked at my toe.

Bit my bottom lip.

And spent the next 5 mins giving the brows a good once over.

Because a true southern lady knows that if the paramedics have to come to your apartment to save you from a detached toe... you want to look damn good in case any of them are single for your friends!

My grandmas didn't raise no fool.

Needless to say... my laundry is still undone and now I've dirtied another towel with it wrapped around my foot as I sit with my leg elevated on the couch, because better safe than sorry.

But all of this was suddenly made right when I discovered I could watch the Food Network show, Chopped on Hulu Plus...

I have a sick sense of humor.