Real quick:

1) I spent the better part of the day about 4 seconds behind the rest of the world. Reason? I took some Dayquil this morning and found out that it makes me more than a little loopy. While I was in Spanish, my professor asked me what I used to do when I was little, and it took me at least 30 seconds to comprehend what she was asking me, come up with an answer in English, and translate it to Spanish. The best I could come up with was that I played outside with my brother and that there weren't any parks nearby. Awesome. So conversational. Things got even more interesting when I was walking home from class and had to cross Kentucky and Tennessee. I never wait for the walking man (because really, why?). But this morning by the time the thought process telling me it was safe to cross the street had come to fruition, it was in fact no longer safe to be in the middle of the road. Too cool.
2) The other day (November 11th, if you must know) I was dancing around the kitchen with a pint of ice cream (like I do) singing along to Kori's Shit List (all the best [worst] music from middle school and beyond) when I realized that it was the 4 year anniversary of Cody dying. So naturally, I admonished myself for being happy and went into the living room to denature my brain with mindless television (thank you, cable!). And now, looking back on it, that was stupid. No better word for it than that. Just because she's gone doesn't mean I get to hold myself back from experiencing what she never gets to.
3) I just got off the phone with Craig, one of the only non-family members I've known my whole life. Just when I thought we'd grown apart to the point of never being able to reconnect, we go and have an hour-long conversation with almost no awkward pauses. It was really great talking to him, especially now that we're both at points in our lives where we're pursuing our dreams and turning into real people. Let's all give friendship one big hurrah, shall we?
4) I got a tattoo. I've kind of been letting people discover it naturally, but the only people I know who read this already know about it (sorry, Mom). It's a musical symbol, a fermata. Fermatas are placed over notes when the length of the note is up to the conductor's discretion (usually at the end of pieces). Basically, it means that things only have to last as long as I want them to. I'm not living by anyone else's agenda. Lame, but whatever.

I went on a domestic rampage today.

It all started with my bedroom (which, let's be honest, was a disaster 2 weeks ago - by the time I got to it today it was down right post-apocalyptic). After cleaning to the point where I could cross it without stepping on anything and I could almost make out the pattern on my rug, I finally started nesting. My closet doors are two massive mirrors on rollers, so I set about covering those up first off (what girl wants to wake up to a wall of mirrors every morning?). One side was already half blocked by a bookshelf, which stands as a bleak tribute to my poor reading habits of late, i.e. I haven't been doing enough of it. Thanks to the handy, though depressing, bookshelf I had just one door-sized mirror to cover. For this task I called on my Shit Box, which contains sundry treasures and pictures spanning the last 10 or so years of my life. I put in everything from a picture of my dad and I in front of Graceland to my ticket to The Star Trek Experience in Vegas. I have to mention, for obvious reasons, that there are also a number of clippings from the basketball team's road to the National Championship tacked up there for good measure. After all that and despite the pile of clothes on my bed approximating the size of a small sedan, I called my room clean enough for the day.
My next target was the kitchen. I dirtied it up real good. I've been wanting to make a big ol' batch of pozole for months, and when I found hominy in the grocery store I knew it was destiny. So I snatched up 5 cans, called my dad (the family's pozole connoisseur), gathered the rest of the ingredients (or so I thought) and headed home. Of course as soon as I got home I realized I'd forgotten the chicken broth, one of the three main components of the soup. I sped back to the grocery store and walked past the broths 3 times before I finally broke down and asked an employee to point me in the right direction. A few minutes later I arrived home, broth in hand, and began assembling my foodstuffs. The rest of the pozole incident was fairly uneventful, since all it involved was some chopping, trimming, grating, browning, and boiling. The highlight of the whole process was Kori telling me "It's not horrible." Point - Katelin!

Another goal of mine was baking a pie. It's been on my list for months, but I always found a way of putting it off. I eventually decided that if I was going to play house for a day I may as well go all out 50's style (sans sun dress and apron). After 3 attempts and a counter full of dishes, I finally mastered the crust, lattice and all. Eight peeled, cored, and sliced apples later my pie was assembled and baking while was falling asleep in the living room. Since I was afraid I would fall asleep and set fire to the house, I took the pie out ten minutes early and passed out. So the apples were still a bit under-cooked... no big deal.