Domestication

Back during the ol' Cal day, my roommates and I had a hilarious joke. The 8 of us weren't exactly known for our domestic skills, so it was kind of a big deal when one of us would successfully make a craft, iron a shirt, or bake brownies.*


Essentially, whenever any of us came out of a domestically-oriented project in one piece, someone would inevitably congratulate them for being domesticated.**


"Heehee," would come the response. "Yup! I can pee on the paper!"

Well, my former student self, you'd be proud of my newly organized spice shelf! Behold:

And, from another angle:

I bought those bottles over a year ago (on sale, with a coupon - double dealin', oh yeah!) with the intention of organizing my spices AND being able to buy them fresh from the bulk bins for much cheaper. But the new spices sat in a wadded up bag in the back of the shelf for longer than The Spitfire has been with us. Until yesterday when I got a hankerin' to fix it. And fix it I did. Go me!

And speaking of domestication, here are two things that do NOT fit into that category:

It's official! The Urinator is no longer trying to eat TS! They can now be friends.

Thanks for reading - I've gotta run upstairs and finish up my sewing project!

*Except for the time that one of the girls intentionally put ethylene blue in brownies she baked for her sister whose science lab was doing the pee-in-a-cup-and-analyze-it lab the next day. Hilarious!
**See "*". The victimized sister wasn't too pleased.