Radiating Engergetic Florals and Sandalwood No More

So last night - or rather, very early this morning, I suppose - I wrote a lovely post for you all. It was about how my room has recently been repainted (remember that resolution? Ta da! Or, well, it will be "ta da" for all of you once I clean up enough to get photos posted), and how much of a process it was taking the room apart and putting it back together again. Actually, the process is still going on, as about 50% of stuff is still lying (laying?) in an burdenous pile on my sister's floor.

I have acquired a lot of crap over the years.

I wrote one of those awful, nostalgic posts about the memories and time-traveling feelings all of the items in my room held for me, including such gems as "With a spray of an aging bottle of Tommy Girl it was like 10th grade washed all over me again," and "My stomach knotted at the thought of my 8th grade English teacher who I majorly crushed on and still occasionally think about in, erm, adult ways."

AHEM. Anyway.

Then Blogger crashed on me and with a click of "publish now" my post was gone. Which explains this cheapened post you're all reading now. But, actually, I think that's okay. No one needs to read a post about how many photos of friends turned frenemies I have or how many Field Day participation medals I've acquired. No one needs to know "how far I've come."

With my cool teal walls and my big white desk and bookshelf full of books and not toys, I'm feeling more adult (even if being adult means staring at your e-mail all day long waiting for any news, ANY NEWS AT ALL.). And the Tommy Girl is in the trash.