I always think I would be a horrible manager and would hate to be in charge. I want too badly for people to like me and wouldn't want to be The Bad Guy. However, when not in a position of power I'm a really good motivator. I just managed to talk Charlie into cleaning up his “PlayStation Room” and, with my help, cleared the whole stinking room out, save for the entertainment center, futon, and some shelves. It was quite an impressive outcome for not much work. Since cable is run in to that room for the modem, he also has cable TV and watches football games in there. Penn State (the school he wishes he'd played for) has a game on right now, so I said “You can watch the game while I help you straighten!” Of course, it wasn't just “straightening,” but sometimes you have to use different words to get things done.
Since every girl I know wants to have a clothes-trading party I haven't given up all the crap I have stuffed into box after box, but I'm tempted to go straight to Goodwill right now, just to unload all this shit. Most of it doesn't fit me since I've lost some weight and, being about the chubbiest gal I know (sorry, but it's true), no one would be able to wear any of my stuff. Everyone's either way too tall, way too skinny, or even shorter than I am. And some of my pants I can only wear with, like, three or four inch heels to keep them from dragging on the ground.
Which brings us to the sewing machine that came in the mail on Thursday that I have yet to figure out. I've gotten the bobbin threaded, the top of the machine threaded, and even the needle, itself, with a teeny, tiny little hook and eye. But I can't seem to get the damn thing to put the bottom and top threads together to make a freaking stitch. The Other Liz (Annie's sister, not my long-time gal pal and former co-worker) called me today with an offer to show me how to do it. Now if I could only muster up the social skills to have her over.