The way stuff piles up. The mail and the papers and notes to myself and lists and books. Until a bonfire seems to be the only way to rid ourselves of all the paper.
The way things get dirty, and you get used to seeing them grubby, and don't even realize how much something needs scrubbed, like the pantry door, or the white walls, or the kitchen cupboards.
Dishes and dishes and dishes and dishes. Always more dishes.
The way stubborn little messes won't go away, like the little pile of dark green Play-doh that hardened on the hardwood floor in a hard-to-get-to corner of the dining area, and I try and try to remove it. For. Years. And neither soaking nor a paring knife nor a scrubbing vac can make it go away. Accept it as part of the landscape.
The way dust falls and falls and falls, always more dust. The way the TV and the DVR and every electronic box in our house attracts dust, loving the dust, drawing the dust to themselves. The thin, pale veneer of dust that is hard to see until a certain slant of light picks it up, highlighting it, shaming me with its ever presence.
The dirtiness of our shoes, the tramp, tramp, tramp of dirt and mown grass and little sticks and God knows what from the outside to our inside; the roar of the vacuum sucking it up, one more time; the stain where the Coke fell, and the scrubbing to obliterate said stain; the slow acceptance that part of the Coke is going to be with us, forever.
The cat: its long, white hair, everywhere. His food messes, the way he barfs when he eats too fast. On the carpet. Twice. The litter box. His bad aim. The dead mouse on the sidewalk.
Last night, a quick cleaning: Papers, throw out, sorted. (Or, hidden.) Surfaces scrubbed. Play-doh, ignored. Electronics, dusted, a wing and a prayer. Vacuum roaring. Litter cleaned. Counters swiped. Dishes done.
Just of couple of hours. Just a little tired. And just enough improvement to make me feel just a little better about the state of the homeland.
Showing posts with label housekeeping. Show all posts
Showing posts with label housekeeping. Show all posts
Friday, August 22, 2008
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
About my organization
I hauled a blank notebook to work this morning, and I intend on marrying it and being faithful to it forever. Or at least until all my projects get done.
It's my new "to-do" notebook, and our union is a proactive one.
It's for my projects. At home. That I can't seem to get organized, or motivated to do, much less complete.
Do you read Real Simple? I do, and probably shouldn't. It's both very informative, and very depressing. It's full of great ideas and motivation. Still: Real Simple depresses me almost as much as O, Oprah the Magazine. Because I fail miserably at taking their advice and making my life into the post-modern nirvana it could be. Even, should be.
I've got too much in my head, too much to do, too little time, and sometimes, too little energy to accomplish everything I should.
I think this little brown notebook will solve all of those problems. Especially if I marry it. Here's why:
First, having too much in my head. If I keep this notebook with me, I can write down all the things I need to address, all the little (or big) projects, from cleaning out a cupboard to filing those bills to painting the entire house. I can keep my shopping lists. I can write down all the little worries that pop into my head, and brainstorm ways to solve them. Maybe by writing all those things down, I'll get them out of my head, and my head will feel a little more clear. Maybe I'll even find that some of the things I'm thinking about aren't even important enough to do at all!
Second, if I write down all these "do's," maybe I can prioritize them, and instead of feeling overwhelmed by all of it, I'll be able to fit them into the time I do have, and hence, cross them off my list. Out of the notebook, into the now!
Third, I do, after all, have 24 hours everyday, just like everyone else. If I have a list of organized projects, I can fit something into the time I do have.
Fourth, if I'm feeling more organized, I might feel more energized -- if I have a couple victories, that might adrenalize me, and I can get more done. I don't have to do it all in one day, ya know.
I've had a victory already! I started the desk area organization I've been putting off -- put cords and cables neatly in a new drawer organizer, put papers away, straightened printers and phones and network storage stuff up. I'm left with just one box of stuff to go through, and the whole corner looks at least 75% better.
In my notebook, I'll put my plans for the future -- the bookcases and TV stand and computer desk I'll look for on my next trip to IKEA. So that room can be really functional, plus nicer-looking.
I think I may found my own magazine: Dysfunctionally Simple.
Want to sign up?
It's my new "to-do" notebook, and our union is a proactive one.
It's for my projects. At home. That I can't seem to get organized, or motivated to do, much less complete.
Do you read Real Simple? I do, and probably shouldn't. It's both very informative, and very depressing. It's full of great ideas and motivation. Still: Real Simple depresses me almost as much as O, Oprah the Magazine. Because I fail miserably at taking their advice and making my life into the post-modern nirvana it could be. Even, should be.
I've got too much in my head, too much to do, too little time, and sometimes, too little energy to accomplish everything I should.
I think this little brown notebook will solve all of those problems. Especially if I marry it. Here's why:
First, having too much in my head. If I keep this notebook with me, I can write down all the things I need to address, all the little (or big) projects, from cleaning out a cupboard to filing those bills to painting the entire house. I can keep my shopping lists. I can write down all the little worries that pop into my head, and brainstorm ways to solve them. Maybe by writing all those things down, I'll get them out of my head, and my head will feel a little more clear. Maybe I'll even find that some of the things I'm thinking about aren't even important enough to do at all!
Second, if I write down all these "do's," maybe I can prioritize them, and instead of feeling overwhelmed by all of it, I'll be able to fit them into the time I do have, and hence, cross them off my list. Out of the notebook, into the now!
Third, I do, after all, have 24 hours everyday, just like everyone else. If I have a list of organized projects, I can fit something into the time I do have.
Fourth, if I'm feeling more organized, I might feel more energized -- if I have a couple victories, that might adrenalize me, and I can get more done. I don't have to do it all in one day, ya know.
I've had a victory already! I started the desk area organization I've been putting off -- put cords and cables neatly in a new drawer organizer, put papers away, straightened printers and phones and network storage stuff up. I'm left with just one box of stuff to go through, and the whole corner looks at least 75% better.
In my notebook, I'll put my plans for the future -- the bookcases and TV stand and computer desk I'll look for on my next trip to IKEA. So that room can be really functional, plus nicer-looking.
I think I may found my own magazine: Dysfunctionally Simple.
Want to sign up?
Saturday, January 5, 2008
About sheets
I had to quit reading O the Magazine, because it made me feel guilty and depressed, a fact that I believe I may have mentioned previously.
O the Magazine made me feel guilty and depressed because I always felt a total failure at all the self-improvement stuff Oprah is so rah-rah about, like being your best self now and being a better you and making the you you are the best you you can be.
And I also had to quit reading because of Oprah's advice about the sheets.
She got addicted to extremely expensive one-million-thread-an-inch Egyptian sheets or whatever, and not only that, she had to have fresh ones EVERY DAY.
One set of her sheets would feed us for six months (even with eating out). And washing and IRONING (I know somewhere, someone is still ironing his/her sheets, and this makes me feel very tired) those sheets. And changing those sheets. Every. Single. Day.
And it would be me doing all this linen stuff, because my husband would think this activity was just nuts and would have nothing to do with it. And because, unlike Oprah, I have no household help to assist in all this sheet.
Now, it's time for the confession: I only change our sheets every two weeks.
When I started working full time, 'way back in the early '80s, I discovered that many of the household chores, etc., that I once had done one way, I no longer had time to do in the same way. And I read an article about that time with suggestions on ways cut down on household stuff, and the every-two-weeks sheet-changing thing was one of the suggestions.
And I tried it, and we lived.
So when I heard about Oprah's sheet-changing habits, I was overcome with remorse and shame about my slatternly housekeeping.
Can you guess it was change-the-linens day at my house?
It was flannel sheets for us today, it being winter and all, and when I get into bed tonight, they will feel mighty soft and warm and, yes, clean.
No million-thread-an-inch sheets for us, but I know I'll sleep pretty good on what I have.
I'd like to try some of those sheets just once, though.
How about you? How's your housekeeping?
O the Magazine made me feel guilty and depressed because I always felt a total failure at all the self-improvement stuff Oprah is so rah-rah about, like being your best self now and being a better you and making the you you are the best you you can be.
And I also had to quit reading because of Oprah's advice about the sheets.
She got addicted to extremely expensive one-million-thread-an-inch Egyptian sheets or whatever, and not only that, she had to have fresh ones EVERY DAY.
One set of her sheets would feed us for six months (even with eating out). And washing and IRONING (I know somewhere, someone is still ironing his/her sheets, and this makes me feel very tired) those sheets. And changing those sheets. Every. Single. Day.
And it would be me doing all this linen stuff, because my husband would think this activity was just nuts and would have nothing to do with it. And because, unlike Oprah, I have no household help to assist in all this sheet.
Now, it's time for the confession: I only change our sheets every two weeks.
When I started working full time, 'way back in the early '80s, I discovered that many of the household chores, etc., that I once had done one way, I no longer had time to do in the same way. And I read an article about that time with suggestions on ways cut down on household stuff, and the every-two-weeks sheet-changing thing was one of the suggestions.
And I tried it, and we lived.
So when I heard about Oprah's sheet-changing habits, I was overcome with remorse and shame about my slatternly housekeeping.
Can you guess it was change-the-linens day at my house?
It was flannel sheets for us today, it being winter and all, and when I get into bed tonight, they will feel mighty soft and warm and, yes, clean.
No million-thread-an-inch sheets for us, but I know I'll sleep pretty good on what I have.
I'd like to try some of those sheets just once, though.
How about you? How's your housekeeping?
Saturday, November 17, 2007
About moving
Not us, thank goodness. We're moving furniture around and cleaning stuff out, but this time, it's our daughter's family that's on the move.
Just last January, we helped move our son and his family, so the routine is plenty familiar. I was having a deja vu kind of feeling last night as we got started.
I specialize in unpacking boxes. I take great satisfaction in throwing empty boxes into the garage. I try to put stuff where people want it, but shoot! Even when you unpack your own boxes you end up moving stuff around, especially in the kitchen. You just decided you want the glasses there instead of here, and the casserole dishes on that shelf instead of on that one.
Because we mostly move people around town, it's all rental-truck-and-the-guys-move-the-heavy stuff. (Risking pulled muscles, heart attack and missing the big game.)
It's no wonder that people who hire movers ... LOVE it. (At least when they hire good ones, check www.angieslist.com for recommendations. Worked great for a young friend who just moved to Chicago.)
I still think you need to unpack your own kitchen.
I also think it pays to move every few years just to weed out one's stuff! Since it's been 10 years since we moved, I'm having to do it anyway--through stuff out, I mean, without the benefit of moving.
Well, how about you? Are you movin' and shakin'?
Just last January, we helped move our son and his family, so the routine is plenty familiar. I was having a deja vu kind of feeling last night as we got started.
I specialize in unpacking boxes. I take great satisfaction in throwing empty boxes into the garage. I try to put stuff where people want it, but shoot! Even when you unpack your own boxes you end up moving stuff around, especially in the kitchen. You just decided you want the glasses there instead of here, and the casserole dishes on that shelf instead of on that one.
Because we mostly move people around town, it's all rental-truck-and-the-guys-move-the-heavy stuff. (Risking pulled muscles, heart attack and missing the big game.)
It's no wonder that people who hire movers ... LOVE it. (At least when they hire good ones, check www.angieslist.com for recommendations. Worked great for a young friend who just moved to Chicago.)
I still think you need to unpack your own kitchen.
I also think it pays to move every few years just to weed out one's stuff! Since it's been 10 years since we moved, I'm having to do it anyway--through stuff out, I mean, without the benefit of moving.
Well, how about you? Are you movin' and shakin'?
Wednesday, November 14, 2007
About cleaning out my dresser
Well, my new dresser from IKEA got put together last night (one to go for the roomie), and that means only, well, two things:
1) my bedroom is going to look much better with new dressers, yea! and
2) now I have to clean out my old one.
I've used the old dresser since about 1982 or '83, and indeed, it HAS been cleaned out since then. I just can't remember when that cleaning occurred. I think it was when I ran out of sock space back in 1998.
It's not a real big dresser--well, it's long, and has nine drawers--but the drawers are all really small. So I kind of had to get rid of some stuff to survive with it.
Still, theoretically, I might have 10-year-old socks and worse in this dresser. You know--10-year-old unmentionables of the underpants kind.
And, I know the lower-left drawer has a strange miscellany of stuff in it--shoulder pads I removed to keep from looking like a linebacker (or too '80s obsessed), scarves (I know I have kept one that was a Christmas present in the '70s from an aunt), all the extra buttons that come with stuff (quite the collection, in a shoebox) (and of course the one I need is never one of the ones I kept), receipts (do I really need that long-gone Hudson's receipt from 1988?), extra bra straps (for those multi-function bras), and God knows what else. Probably everything except money.
Not to mention what's on top the dresser, the jewelry case with the stuff I wear all the time, and the two with "legacy" jewelry in it, stuff I wore in the, oh God, '80s and '90s that for some reason is hard to part with. Oh and my pantyhose box, totally useless since I hate pantyhose and quit wearing them some time ago.
And my perfume, but all that's new.
I'm going to suck it up and get rid of the legacy stuff--if I want to remember it, I'll take a picture of it. My new dresser deserves only contemporary stuff.
The next project will be my husband-roomie's dresser, an even more challenging project--he has '70s stuff in his. I told him he's getting a couple plastic storage bins and his memorabilia is going in the basement!
Well, how about you? What legacy items are you going to get rid of?
1) my bedroom is going to look much better with new dressers, yea! and
2) now I have to clean out my old one.
I've used the old dresser since about 1982 or '83, and indeed, it HAS been cleaned out since then. I just can't remember when that cleaning occurred. I think it was when I ran out of sock space back in 1998.
It's not a real big dresser--well, it's long, and has nine drawers--but the drawers are all really small. So I kind of had to get rid of some stuff to survive with it.
Still, theoretically, I might have 10-year-old socks and worse in this dresser. You know--10-year-old unmentionables of the underpants kind.
And, I know the lower-left drawer has a strange miscellany of stuff in it--shoulder pads I removed to keep from looking like a linebacker (or too '80s obsessed), scarves (I know I have kept one that was a Christmas present in the '70s from an aunt), all the extra buttons that come with stuff (quite the collection, in a shoebox) (and of course the one I need is never one of the ones I kept), receipts (do I really need that long-gone Hudson's receipt from 1988?), extra bra straps (for those multi-function bras), and God knows what else. Probably everything except money.
Not to mention what's on top the dresser, the jewelry case with the stuff I wear all the time, and the two with "legacy" jewelry in it, stuff I wore in the, oh God, '80s and '90s that for some reason is hard to part with. Oh and my pantyhose box, totally useless since I hate pantyhose and quit wearing them some time ago.
And my perfume, but all that's new.
I'm going to suck it up and get rid of the legacy stuff--if I want to remember it, I'll take a picture of it. My new dresser deserves only contemporary stuff.
The next project will be my husband-roomie's dresser, an even more challenging project--he has '70s stuff in his. I told him he's getting a couple plastic storage bins and his memorabilia is going in the basement!
Well, how about you? What legacy items are you going to get rid of?
Saturday, November 10, 2007
About wrinkly things
Because we're on a little trip today, and I was in a hurry to get ready, and realized I MIGHT NOT HAVE TIME TO IRON MY CLOTHES.
I'm trying to remember when my abhorrence of things not of a smooth persuasion began, and it's so long ago, I can't. I know I was in elementary school.
One of my first chores as a kid was to iron my dad's work dress shirts, and it was a chore I liked--I enjoyed the instant gratification of orderly smoothness and a tidy appearance out of the wrinkly mess out of the dryer.
I guess that just spilled over onto my own wardrobe, and I've been compulsively ironing ever since.
I don't like ironing en masse ... I don't feel the need to spend hours ironing. I'm more a one day at a time ironer. But by God, I'll iron that t-shirt if it looks a little too wrinkly to me.
Now, I have ruined just a t-shirt or two when ironing, mostly the ones that say, "do not iron." If tempted to iron, believe the tag! Go wrinkly!
And I do have to suppress the compulsion to kidnap any non-ironers in my life, strip them, and iron 'em up.
And I try not to judge any persons by their non-ironing behaviors--I remind myself there are much more important things about a person than the state of their ironing.
I even think I've been judged in the negative for being an over-ironer. Which I deserved.
Well, how about you? Ironer, or not?
I'm trying to remember when my abhorrence of things not of a smooth persuasion began, and it's so long ago, I can't. I know I was in elementary school.
One of my first chores as a kid was to iron my dad's work dress shirts, and it was a chore I liked--I enjoyed the instant gratification of orderly smoothness and a tidy appearance out of the wrinkly mess out of the dryer.
I guess that just spilled over onto my own wardrobe, and I've been compulsively ironing ever since.
I don't like ironing en masse ... I don't feel the need to spend hours ironing. I'm more a one day at a time ironer. But by God, I'll iron that t-shirt if it looks a little too wrinkly to me.
Now, I have ruined just a t-shirt or two when ironing, mostly the ones that say, "do not iron." If tempted to iron, believe the tag! Go wrinkly!
And I do have to suppress the compulsion to kidnap any non-ironers in my life, strip them, and iron 'em up.
And I try not to judge any persons by their non-ironing behaviors--I remind myself there are much more important things about a person than the state of their ironing.
I even think I've been judged in the negative for being an over-ironer. Which I deserved.
Well, how about you? Ironer, or not?
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
About the importance of adequate storage
I suppose I should write about the importance of not having too much stuff, so one does not need so much storage, but what fun is that?
What got me thinking about it is, we put some cupboards in the laundry area, and I already love them with every fiber of my being, although they have been up less than a day.
Because I can hide my messy laundry supplies in them, like the detergent, the softener, and the little lint wastebasket, creating the illusion of tidiness!
And now I don't have to look at messiness anymore (until I open the doors, of course).
See, what happened was, I had a ratty ole shelf up there, and it had developed an unhealthy sag.
Then one day I heard a bad crash, and the whole thing had gone south, very literally. Also, it made a mess I then had to clean up.
So all summer, I have been storage-less in the laundry area, and had to just throw stuff where ever it would go, and move it around and it just looked terrible.
And I got tired of it one day and we took our projecty selves to Lowe's, where I had discovered they had exactly the kind of little cupboard I wanted for a very reasonable price.
The difficulty after purchase became, when in the hell would we ever have time to put it up! The box was sitting in the garage three weeks! (Let me also add, two additional trips to Lowe's had to be made for stuff missing out of the stupid box! Like, screws.)
Little by little the cupboard was built and last night there was just enough time to get the thing very securely attached to the wall (with the help of the stud finder, an additional cost to the project of $20).
Anyway, the cupboard is up, it's full of stuff, and with any luck at all, thanks to that stud finder, it will not be falling down any time soon.
So, how about you? What are you hidin' in your storage space?
What got me thinking about it is, we put some cupboards in the laundry area, and I already love them with every fiber of my being, although they have been up less than a day.
Because I can hide my messy laundry supplies in them, like the detergent, the softener, and the little lint wastebasket, creating the illusion of tidiness!
And now I don't have to look at messiness anymore (until I open the doors, of course).
See, what happened was, I had a ratty ole shelf up there, and it had developed an unhealthy sag.
Then one day I heard a bad crash, and the whole thing had gone south, very literally. Also, it made a mess I then had to clean up.
So all summer, I have been storage-less in the laundry area, and had to just throw stuff where ever it would go, and move it around and it just looked terrible.
And I got tired of it one day and we took our projecty selves to Lowe's, where I had discovered they had exactly the kind of little cupboard I wanted for a very reasonable price.
The difficulty after purchase became, when in the hell would we ever have time to put it up! The box was sitting in the garage three weeks! (Let me also add, two additional trips to Lowe's had to be made for stuff missing out of the stupid box! Like, screws.)
Little by little the cupboard was built and last night there was just enough time to get the thing very securely attached to the wall (with the help of the stud finder, an additional cost to the project of $20).
Anyway, the cupboard is up, it's full of stuff, and with any luck at all, thanks to that stud finder, it will not be falling down any time soon.
So, how about you? What are you hidin' in your storage space?
Tuesday, August 21, 2007
About just how many pairs of socks two people can own
Because I was catching on up laundry last night, during an evening actually spent in the home, otherwise known as the check-in station.
The male family member's socks seem to fall into two categories: white and black. Each of those two categories has two subcategories: dress black (rarely worn) and fuzzy black everyday work socks. The white also has two subcategories: everyday tennis shoe crew socks, and short footies (often worn while playing golf). That's it. Four kinds.
The female family member's socks -- that is to say, mine -- seem to have a infinite varieties. I think I may have become an unintentional collector of them, too.
Oh, I have the white crew, and the white footies. I also have the white, black and beige slide (or half) socks and the tube versions. These partial socks cause a lot of conversation with people who have never heard or seen them; I love them. Perfect summer socks.
I also have the smaller nylon or cotton footies, in beige, white, or black, for certain shoes; I have patterned footies, for making fashion statements; I have thicker ones, for walking; I have old ones, new ones; high, medium, and low ones; single ones.
I have dark trouser socks (in black and navy), and beige (light and dark) trouser socks, in nylon, microfiber, and cotton. I have them in knee-sock length, and in crew length. I have them in thicker weaver and in thinner. I have plain ones, and patterned ones.
I have holiday socks for Christmas, Valentine's Day, and Halloween. I might even have a pair for the Fourth of July.
I've not mentioned the panty hose (regular and control top) and the tights (microfiber) in various colors.
Have you ever counted your socks? I have not, because I cannot count to a googol.
I have a whole drawer of mystery socks, whose mates have vanished. I must be unconsciously waiting for the pairs to become whole once again, for I fail every time I organize my dresser to just THROW THIS DRAWER OF ODD SOCKS OUT.
I might know why. I think part of our history is hidden in our sock drawer. The pair we bought when our feet got wet at the amusement park one summer...the argyles we wore to work during our years at an old job...the pair our child gave us for Christmas that might vie for the title of "ugliest sock ever." We've logged miles in these socks: heard good news and bad, gone to work, come home, taken walks, talked on the phone, paced with babies, ran after little kids, trailed after teenagers, ran to catch up with friends, laughed and cried, ate and drank, loved and hated.
IF one's bodily toxins can be removed through the feet...maybe our whole life history has been leeched into our socks, and that is why we are so loath to part with them.
Well, how about you? What are you thinkin' about what's hidden in your sock drawer?
The male family member's socks seem to fall into two categories: white and black. Each of those two categories has two subcategories: dress black (rarely worn) and fuzzy black everyday work socks. The white also has two subcategories: everyday tennis shoe crew socks, and short footies (often worn while playing golf). That's it. Four kinds.
The female family member's socks -- that is to say, mine -- seem to have a infinite varieties. I think I may have become an unintentional collector of them, too.
Oh, I have the white crew, and the white footies. I also have the white, black and beige slide (or half) socks and the tube versions. These partial socks cause a lot of conversation with people who have never heard or seen them; I love them. Perfect summer socks.
I also have the smaller nylon or cotton footies, in beige, white, or black, for certain shoes; I have patterned footies, for making fashion statements; I have thicker ones, for walking; I have old ones, new ones; high, medium, and low ones; single ones.
I have dark trouser socks (in black and navy), and beige (light and dark) trouser socks, in nylon, microfiber, and cotton. I have them in knee-sock length, and in crew length. I have them in thicker weaver and in thinner. I have plain ones, and patterned ones.
I have holiday socks for Christmas, Valentine's Day, and Halloween. I might even have a pair for the Fourth of July.
I've not mentioned the panty hose (regular and control top) and the tights (microfiber) in various colors.
Have you ever counted your socks? I have not, because I cannot count to a googol.
I have a whole drawer of mystery socks, whose mates have vanished. I must be unconsciously waiting for the pairs to become whole once again, for I fail every time I organize my dresser to just THROW THIS DRAWER OF ODD SOCKS OUT.
I might know why. I think part of our history is hidden in our sock drawer. The pair we bought when our feet got wet at the amusement park one summer...the argyles we wore to work during our years at an old job...the pair our child gave us for Christmas that might vie for the title of "ugliest sock ever." We've logged miles in these socks: heard good news and bad, gone to work, come home, taken walks, talked on the phone, paced with babies, ran after little kids, trailed after teenagers, ran to catch up with friends, laughed and cried, ate and drank, loved and hated.
IF one's bodily toxins can be removed through the feet...maybe our whole life history has been leeched into our socks, and that is why we are so loath to part with them.
Well, how about you? What are you thinkin' about what's hidden in your sock drawer?
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