Tonight I finally did that thing where you go through your underwear drawer and toss every single pair of gonch that you kind of hate wearing when you're too close to laundry day.  (It's been a few years since I did that, so it was a large purge, probably a third of a garbage bag.)  I don't know why I'm so lame at clutter-busting when I'm totally not a pack-rat.  I actually love getting rid of shit, it's like a high for me.  (Just ask sparktastic, the consummate stuff-keeper, who has more than once convinced me not to toss every scrap of writing from my teen and childhood years -- and even with her convincing, I'm down to one small finely-filtered box of the stuff.)  I think laziness is my worst enemy, because at heart I'm a total minimalist.  Whenever I move (shudder) I have weeks-long fantasies about owning only two or three boxes of stuff.  I love being portable, and yet I somehow find myself accumulating layers of clutter like sediment settling out from my life.  I dream of a day when I consistently put things away in their proper place and get rid of excess stuff as soon as it arrives in my place.

Speaking of my place, tonight I picked out some laminate flooring for my condo.  The carpet in most of the place was brand-new when I moved in almost three years ago but my darling dog has since taken some unfortunate liberties with its once-off-white surface.  Having a dog with periodic lapses in his housebreaking skills is not compatible with carpet, in other words, and it's time for a change.  Here's hoping the renovation process -- installing said laminate, as well as new swanky lino and counters in the kitchen and bathroom -- goes as smoothly as possible.  It's my first major home improvement project.  Crazy.  *bites nails*

sparktastic is trying to lure me into Inception fandom but, having seen the movie, I'm afraid it is much too angst-prone for the likes of me.  I am the one who occasionally feels the need to make SGA sillier than it is in canon, after all, and felt stifled by the lack of goofiness in Smallville.  Smallville.  I'll let that one sink in for a while.  Still, I have read a little fic at her urging -- and of course JGL is unholy hot.  Is there room in the fandom for fic where it rains frogs and the boys talk about bums and have contests making slingshots out of condoms?  And it's not dreamlike and symbolic of some psychological truth?  Hrm.  *is mistrustful*