A friend of mine had a bad week. I'll bet you can tell his nationality. ==================================================
My Week
We have a machine that doesn’t do anything in our hallway, and the night before my last lecture it stopped working. When it’s working it does nothing so quietly you wouldn’t know it was there, but when something’s wrong with it, it signals its distress with a continual squeak, best heard in the bedroom. Anyway, we blearily coughed up $155 to have it fixed with a new battery the next day and now it is absolutely quiet again. Money well spent.

Yesterday we went to the post-office and [Redacted] had her purse nicked. She hardly had time to cancel all her cards before some lovely policemen returned it. Turns out post offices, like nearly everywhere else, have CCTV. CCTV clearly doesn’t stop crime, but it does help double the pain. [Redacted] has no credit cards for five to ten working days and some hapless tea-leaf out there has had to watch her hastily concocted cover story undone, in high resolution and to the last detail, on one of the tablets our sterling constabulary carry around with them in case of just such gratifying occasions.

Did give my last lecture on Wednesday, but The Squeakatron had left me too tired to celebrate. I’d celebrate today, with beer, horse-racing and demotic argot, but I do that every Saturday, so the celebration’ll have to wait.

We have our last baby class this morning, followed by a tour of the maternity ward of the hospital.

Short sleeved cardigan: covering my upper arms and/or bra straps in certain summer dresses.

Short sleeved cardigan: covering my upper arms and/or bra straps in certain summer dresses.

Same. And I'll be so glad when/if they start putting short sleeves back on summer dresses. Throw in pockets, washability, and a flattering cut and I'll buy one in every color.

Short sleeved cardigan: covering my upper arms and/or bra straps in certain summer dresses.

Oh, absolutely. Sleeveless is never happening. But I was looking at a cute sweater dress with pockets that I would've bought in a trice except - short sleeves. Not even elbow length. Doesn't cover the upper arms, doesn't provide warmth, makes the otherwise-perfect dress something I'd never wear.

But it's just as well, because it kept me from spending money I don't really have to spend. Must stop buying clothes. And shoes.

I decided the world can just deal with my floppy upper arms.

Pockets, now. That's the only downside of my favorite traveling dress--now owned in bright red, though they were out of the black--is that there are no pockets.

I'm still unpacking. I think I might be able to finish the living room today. Or, at least, have all the boxes out of the living room. I own way too much random crap, and I don't know where it all goes. Like, I know that books go on bookshelves, and clothes go in the closet, and dishes go in the cabinet. I don't know where a deck of cards, of a bottle of Advil, or a steam inhaler that I use once in a while, or a million other little things like that go.

I so know that feel.

I always put meds in the bathroom (or, currently, in the closet right outside the bathroom because there's no storage in the bathroom because Reasons), and I thought that was what everyone did, but Katherine, my college roommate, always put them in the kitchen because there were many bathrooms, but only one kitchen.

Less of an issue in a 1-person home. Although I am attempting to be guest-ready and intuitive (thought not to the point of labelling things)

I keep my meds in the bathroom (except ibuprofen and tylenol, which live in the kitchen for some reason), but Tim takes the rule about not storing meds in the bathroom (because of humidity) very seriously. I obviously don't care, and my meds seem to work just fine.

I also need to add a mirror in the bathroom, because the mirror on the medicine cabinet is too high for me, unless all I want to see is my forehead. For similar reasons, I can only really use the bottom shelf of the medicine cabinet.

I really wish this apartment had a linen closet. Or a front closet. Or any closet other than the one in the bedroom, really. I've got all sorts of stuff -- vacuum cleaner, extra toilet paper, extra batteries, etc. -- that just seem like they ought to go in a closet.