Grandma-Bag Person

So as I sit here in the dark, at 7 on a Saturday night, hoping the tape job I did on my window will keep it shut, I've been thinking about a few habits that I cannot seem to break and that have followed me, most willingly and unwanted, to Russia.

First is a messy room.  My room is an absolute mess.  I meant to clean it this week, but, well, I didn't have the energy.  Or the time.  Or I didn't feel well.  Any of the those excuses work, feel free to chose the one you think fits best or make your own.  Anyways, this is a bad habit, but one that I've perfected from years of living the bachelor life.  It's marked by dirty dishes, clothes all over the floor and creating a 'path' from your door to the important places in your room/place.  You know you've reached this stage when you wait until the last possible moment to do laundry, then when everything is dry, you put it all in a pile and just pick through it, finding what you want rather than actually putting anything away.

The next isn't as bad as it was in Seattle, where the food was so delicious and there was such variety, but I eat out quite a bit.  I'm better with it here because I'm considerably more limited with my options, but I still do it.  The hordes of Mongolian (no pun intended) and Chinese students that invade my dormitory kitchen everyday is slightly intimidating...plus I'm pretty sure they only sleep, study and cook.

There's several more, but less important habits as well, but I wanna get to the bulk of this post.  Somewhere at some point in time I started to become a grandma bag person (if Ana wants to comment on this she should, since she was the person to point this out to me!).  What is a grandma bag person? If you're in Russia, you might think it means that I love stylish plastic bags, but no.  If you're somewhere else you may just think I'm nuts, but n....well okay yeah, but that's not the point.

A grandma bag person is someone who carries literally everything humanly possible in their bag.  I think some of this started after my jaw surgery this past spring when I would carry all sorts of mouth stuff with me in case anything went wrong, but I can't be sure.

In the US I carried everything.  I had food. I had medicine. I had mouth supplies. I had books and papers and pens. I had computer stuff. I had drinks. I had everything.  And here in Russia...the same.

Here in Russia I have my documents. I have computer supplies. I have water. I have food. I have tons and tons of markers. I have tons of notebooks and books. I have medicine. I have napkins. I have matches. I have a hat. The only thing I apparently don't have....my dignity.

When did such a useful misfortune befall me? I mean it's saved my ass countless times, but it's just a little crazy. I'm not shrinking, nor do I have a hump growing on my back, but it seems I am well on my way to babushka-status (I've already got the mustache!).

Anyways, Dear Readers, enjoy what makes you unique and then comment about it! ;-)