To soap or not to soap

Can I make a confession? Will you lose all confidence in me if I admit this? I don't use soap very often. Water and elbow grease seem to work in a lot of cases. When I do use soap, it is something of a last resort, when scrubbing just isn't enough, or when germs are a factor. The only things I really seem to use soap for on a regular basis are hands, clothes, and dishes (especially things touched by raw meat). Basically, anything that will handle food or touch skin on a regular basis. My mother was much the same way, and my brother and I didn't get any more colds than anyone else. What I'm trying to say is, your house doesn't have to be sterilized. You're not competing with hospitals. No major surgery will be performed on your kitchen floor. You only need to be clean enough.

Thirty Days Hath September, or Some Such Nonsense

I find it impossible to remember how many days are in each month. No one ever taught me that silly rhyme, and so it doesn't help, and I'm usually around a calendar or a computer in situations when I need to know. For when I'm not, Saint Peg has a very simple way to remember, and which doesn't depend on your rhyming skills:

"In this system, the knuckles are thirty-one-day months, and the valleys between them are thirty-day months. If you start with January, on your first knuckle, you can't miss, with the exception of February, which always messes everything up anyway.
I believe, incidentally, that the Knuckle-tappers slightly outnumber the Thirty Days Hath September group. As it was explained to me by a friend, who tried both before she settled irrevocably for Knuckles, you might start off on the wrong foot with the poem- for instance, 'Thirty Days Hath December'- and you'd be in trouble all year; but your knuckles never change."

The I Hate to Housekeep Book, page 114.

How to Remember and How to Remember to Remember

If you're like me, you have a jolly time trying to remember anything. People are always disappointed in me because I forgot something important, something they felt I would be sure to remember. But I'd forget my own birthday if I didn't get phone calls in early May. Actually, that's untrue. I do remember my own birthday, but what is really hard is stuff I only have to remember to do once. Birthdays come every year, but I only need to pick up my friend from the airport once, and no matter how many times she reminded me on the days leading up to it, and no matter how much I was looking forward to seeing her, I only give myself fifty/fifty on remembering to go pick her up. How do I cope? Admittedly, I don't cope very well, but I have much better odds of remembering when I write things down. In my case this means I have sticky notes on every surface as well as in my pockets, but I may actually be reminded to call for a checkup before it's too late if I wrote it down immediately after thinking of it three months in advance.

My brain works in mysterious ways, and yours may well do also, but chances are your thought process is far different from mine. Sticky notes may not work for you. Find something that works and stick with it. Saint Peg had a few tips, one or two of which I'll share with you.

"Now, how to remember a number of things when you're unable to write them down- when you're driving, for instance, or soul alone, in bed, in the dark. This is where the memory experts prove the stuff they're made of. They have proved, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you can remember fifty things if you will first memorize fifty key words or pictures to remember them with.

"But to the random housewife, this doesn't make sense. In the first place, she hardly knows fifty things worth remembering, and if she did, that's what pencils are for. Four things are her maximum; and four key words which work for most people- because they are easy to remember- are these:

1. flagpole
2. red bloomers
3. tricycle
4. pig

"As you will perceive after a moment's close study, flagpole is singular, like 1. Bloomers, being bifurcated, are double, like 2. Tricycle, with its three wheels, is triple; and the usual pig has four legs.

"Thus, when you must depend on your head alone to remember some assorted things- say, to call Dr. Mason for a dental appointment, to leave the back door unlocked for the deliveryman, and to pick up anchovies and butter at the grocers- you do it in this fashion:

"First you run Dr. Mason up the flagpole. You clearly visualize him going up, probably flailing his arms and complaining all the way. If you think hard enough about him for a moment, you'll find him still stuck up there when you haul out your keywords* and look at Number 1- flagpole. You will remember, then, to call him up, and you'll undoubtedly find him none the worse for wear.

"And so on down your list. You mentally put the red bloomers on the delivery man, if that helps you to remember him, or you hang a pair from the front doorknob. You see a cheerful anchovy riding a tricycle. And a well-greased pig wallowing in a trough of the best butter.

"There you are, with all four things tidily remembered. You will find, too, that your four key words are obliging about cleaning themselves up. Once you've called the dentist or bought the anchovies, your keywords are bare of association again, and ready to reuse.

*You have to haul them out and check them, at fairly regular intervals, or they won't do a thing for you."