Charming, but single

My day didn't get any more interesting after I finally shook off the semi-hangover from Wednesday night. (Around 2 p.m., natch.) (I don't think I use the word "natch" enough. Frankly, I'm not sure anyone (save gossip columnists) uses the word "natch" enough.) I spent most of the afternoon doing laundry and organizing my clothes. I've realized that if I'm going to be able to arise and drag my sorry self to work for somewhere between 7 a.m. and 8 a.m. every morning, I'm going to have to embrace a life with some semblance of organization. Damnit. So, my old system of organizing my clothes simply would not do. This draconian method was one I mastered whilst in college. It consists of two overlapping piles, labeled "clean" and "not clean." The main problem with this system is that it relies heavily on the "smell test," whereby clothes are sniffed to determine their relative level of dirtiness. Unfortunately, early in the morning my sense of smell must be pretty lax, because I often end up in shirts that smell like smoke and vodka, which may fly in the retail biz, but ain't going to make my new employer jump for joy. (I don't care how much of that Gap body spray I douse on my clothes, the smoke-vodka smell combo is killer.) Also, I often ended up washing clothes that were clean when I washed the dirty ones, because I couldn't tell the difference. So, I've opted for a new system, whereby clothes are divided into the groups "work appropriate," "only to be worn when going out" and "other." ("Other" is for workout clothes, PJs, gloves and anything else that I shouldn't wear to work and wouldn't wear to a social occasion.) There is, of course, another pile. Some people call this the "Goodwill" pile, but I refer to it as "What the hell was I thinking when I bought this" and/or "Even if I worked out three times daily for the next three months this would not look good on me" pile. That pile is getting pretty sizable. Also, there are these things in my closet ... they're wire or plastic and funny shaped and they hang off of a wooden pole ... I think they're called hangers. Well, I haven't used them in years ... seriously, I think the last thing I actually put on a hanger was my prom dress. I utilized these strange devices on the work clothes. It made me feel very adult. The day was not without fun. I had a pile of clothes that wouldn't work well with a washer or dryer -- bras, the aforementioned sweater poncho, a few sweaters and a cute wrap dress that I forgot I owned. So, I spent the better part of the afternoon handwashing these items, which was a lot more work than it sounds. The low point of all of this was when I decided to wash clothes in the kitchen sink (which is bigger and deeper, kind of how I like my men) and then transport the wet clothes to the bathroom for drying. Not the smoothest of moves. I ended up with a river running from the bathroom to the sink. And, to top it off, the entire front of the clothes I was wearing were DRENCHED. It was ridiculous. I looked like an unwilling participant in one of those wet T-shirt contests you see on a "Girls Gone Wild" video, only I was in no way, shape or form sexy at all. AT ALL. So, after the laundry was done, I settled on making a list of clothes to buy with my first paycheck. (I cannot be expected to wear the same old clothes to my cool new job. Plus, it's not like I'm going to spend all of my paycheck on clothes. Just, like, a lot of it.) I actually have a lot of work pieces, given my previous internships. I really want a chocolate brown suit, but I'm worried that it's too close to spring to find a cute one. I am so getting a big black satchel purse though. Finished the night by getting Chinese with my family and watching The Apprentice. For some reason life felt purposeful and I less frantic and alone than the night before's martinis led me to believe I am.