Rearranging Furniture

...is apparently my new hobby.

I would never have figured this out if it weren't for our Home Teachers commenting that every month when they come over something is different. Sometimes it's drastic, sometimes small. This month it was simply moving the couch to the other side of the room, moving one lamp, and putting the tall red bookshelf next to the other bookshelves. I've never gotten so many compliments on an appliance until I put my lava lamp/floor lamp in the living room instead of the bedroom. Not that it works anymore, but people still think it's the coolest.

I also enjoy rearranging my bookshelves, though not nearly that often. I am extremely tempted to arrange them by color, but then I wouldn't be able to find anything. This is apparently in vogue right now, but Peg thought of it first: "Perhaps you remember books by their color, as a friend of mine does. She thinks, 'Oh yes, that pink book, by what's-his-name...' So she keeps as like-colored books together, which results in some improbable shelfmates, with The Rubaiyat next to The Complete Dog Book. It works for her, though, and the blocks of color are pretty." Page 21.

Hand Wash Only?

If you must machine wash things that say "hand wash only" on the label, just make sure to use a cold cycle, and for heaven's sake don't put them in the dryer. (But if you forget just once, I doubt any permanent harm will be done, unless you're dealing with something really temperamental, and why would you own something like that, anyway?) My, sweet, dear husband accidentally put one of my "hand wash only" things (one I routinely put in the washer with no problem) in the dryer and it came out noticeably (but not significantly) smaller. It is still entirely wearable, but I doubt another go would end so blissfully.

Motivation

I had a bout of random housekeeping last night worth mentioning. I'm not sure what brought it on, other than the fact that they're threatening to replace our carpets soon. It's not a bad thing, just a hassle, but I figured it's the perfect opportunity to rearrange our furniture. Using a tape measure and a calculator (read: my husband's brain) I figured out that we can actually squeeze another bookshelf into our tiny apartment just by moving the desk to the bedroom.

So, somehow this translated to me cleaning like a madwoman until all hours last night. They haven't even started on our building yet, but I felt the pull of that eventual promise of having to move stuff like a werewolf feels the moon. (Can you tell I've been reading Mercy Thompson novels?)

My great challenge in getting things done (and in life at large) is figuring out what motivates me and how. Simply promising myself a treat after I do the dishes doesn't work, but knowing that I'm going to be moving furniture in a couple of weeks prompts me to finally throw out all that old packing material and bubble wrap I've been saving in our hall closet, as well as generally straightening up. (Being a horrendous pack rat doesn't help matters at all.) You can see the floor now!

I think that's a clue. Eventually we'll have to expose the entire floor, so I clean off the floor. Ice cream and dishes don't have much to do with each other, but wanting to bake something that requires counter space can give me the edge I need to get myself to wash the dishes. (Not very often, though. In fact, having a bowl of ice cream after I do the dishes means either there's at least one dish I will leave on the counter, spoiling the effect, or it demotivates me enough that I don't do the dishes.)

Motivation is a very important question for the Random Housekeeper. We tend to think too much to be really good at just mindlessly cleaning when it suits us. "If I put this skirt over the chair instead of hanging it up in the closet," we think collectively to ourselves, "I'll save enough energy to be able to go shopping later, where I'll buy another skirt to hang over the chair." You know what I mean. We're bargainers. We just have to learn how to make sure cleaning gets the upper hand. Sometimes. When we want it to.

Question for readers: What motivates you? How does knowing that change the way you do housecleaning (or anything else you don't like to do)?

This isn't rocket science, it's a billion dollar industry who only wants your money and will sacrifice your sanity to get it; or, Don't Be So OCD

I don't normally watch TV, and that's mostly because I don't own one. But the other day I was in the dentist's office and they were playing one of those morning talk shows on the big screen TV in the waiting room that lets you know exactly what that big check you're going to write in an hour is paying for. Today's inane chatter by people who don't know what they're talking about and don't expect their audience to know the difference was centered around the subject of house cleaning, and it made me remember why I started this blog in the first place (and also reminded me that I hadn't posted in over a month).

Don't get me wrong; there were some good tips given, for instance, washing your kid's toys in the washing machine or dishwasher, depending, or freezing them to kill germs if they can't handle either one of those. But unfortunately those kinds of ideas were in the minority; most of the program (hosted by a woman "expert", my inner feminist would like to point out)(accompanied by a male host, my inner fairness referee would like to also add) consisted of appalling advice such as "How to disinfect your garbage can."

Excuse me?

I was always under the impression that the purpose of a garbage can was to put garbage in; and I further held the view that garbage consisted of things like dirty diapers, rotting meat and vegetable peels (apologies to the faint of stomach). I was further mistaken in believing that one could put a garbage bag or some kind of liner in the can so as to avoid the smells and germs and general yuckiness from sticking around after the garbage got taken out. I was also much chagrined to discover that the proper garbage can should be some kind of expensive looking metal (probably silver plate) rather than cheap plastic that is easily replaceable.

Thank you, ABC America, for correcting me.

This sort of thing makes me mad: perpetuating the stereotype (despite protests to the contrary) that stay at home mothers (or any other kind, for that matter) have unlimited amounts of time and energy with which to perform household tasks of a kind that are only important to talk show hosts who all probably have maids and whose kids go to private schools and wear clothes from Gymboree and Baby Gap and who never get dirty in the first place. And meth users.

Movie Therapy: The Princess Bride

Sometimes I just need a movie to help me feel more like a person and less like a dishrag. My current mood dictates what kind of movie this will be: sometimes all I need is a good cry and an on-screen cry-partner, and sometimes I need to laugh until I snort soda out my nose (very painful, that). But there is one movie that will always cheer me up, no matter what mood I’m in: The Princess Bride. I know not everyone is in love with this movie, but if you’re one of those people, ask yourself: do I dislike it because it’s a genuinely bad movie in my opinion, or do I dislike it because of all the hype it gets? Because let me tell you, the hype is accurate. Even better is the fact that the book which the movie is based on is just as funny as the movie. Probably because the author of the book also wrote the screenplay for the movie, it is one of the few instances in cinema history where the book and the movie are on equal footing quality-wise.

What are some of your favorite pick-me-up movies?

Husbands, the use of

If you have something heavy that needs lifting, for goodness’ sake wait till your husband gets home and have him do it. Then ooh and ah appropriately at his superior strength so he doesn’t feel so put upon. If you simply have to move it now, remember to lift with your knees, and if it’s high up, don’t be afraid to get a chair or stool to stand on, or even the counter if you have to. Husbands are also very useful for opening jars, etc., and keep in mind that the ego trip you’re giving him by allowing him to use his muscles is good for his manly psyche. One of the pieces of advice my mother gave me before my impending marriage was that men have fragile egos, which need constant stroking and building. I have found this to be true, and I have also found that said stroking and building requires little extra effort. (In the example above, it requires refraining from effort, which always seems like a good plan to me.)

T-shirt surgery

Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce a little thing I like to call... T-shirt surgery. Got a shirt that fits you like a potato sack? Got one that you can't fit over your head? Don't want to throw them away or cut them up for rags because they have a cool logo, or have sentimental value? Never fear! They can be wearable! All it requires is a little patience, some sewing, and a lot of creativity.

Allow me to demonstrate.

I had a shirt given to me by my niece for Christmas. It was a beautiful shirt, and she had picked it out all by herself! The only problem was, it was way too small. It was past uncomfortable and into the range of tourniquet. I couldn't wear it. But giving it away was out of the question, and I didn't really want to just throw it into my t-shirt quilt. (Which is another story, and will be told another time.) I had the idea of making it into a halter top, since the main problem was the sleeves, but I didn't want to cut up this great shirt willy-nilly. Then, as I was idly googling at work one day (which I do far too often), I came across an entire online community of t-shirt surgeons. The ideas flying around were amazing! The projects were beautiful! The shirts fit! I was amazed as before-picture after before-picture of girls in gigantic or ugly t-shirts turned into after-pictures of girls wearing cute, punky, rockin' or just plain awesome shirts.

I had to try it.

Utilizing no less than 3 websites, two tutorials, and lots of praying, I went to work. Adding side panels allowed me room to breath, and allowed the shirt to actually fit over my hips. Replacing the sleeves added to the cuteness and allowed the blood to flow to my arms. I even managed to keep the picture mostly intact. I made some mistakes, and I will now measure everything five times and cut everything too big, just in case, but it turned out pretty good, if I do say so myself. Check it out!

Before

After

Thank you, t-shirt surgery, thank you. You saved my baby.

(Admittedly, most t-shirt surgeons are into the punk scene, since band shirts are the most common source of large, baggy t-shirts with awesome logos, but even if you don't swing that way, a lot of the ideas one the sites below can be utilized toward more cutesy or chic ends. It's all up to you! The best part about t-shirt surgery, to me? If you play it right, all the hard work has been done before! You don't have to hem it, or insert buttons, or anything too difficult, unless you really want to. You don't have to buy fabric- it's all there, already. A lot of these craftsters even hand sew all their work! No sewing machine necessary! This is truly a more democratic approach to crafts.)

(I still prefer a sewing machine.)


Here are some awesome links:
http://community.livejournal.com/t_shirt_surgery
http://www.whatthecraft.com/

Have any more links to t-shirt surgery or craft sites? Have any great ideas for a surgery yourself? Want to borrow my sewing machine? Feel free to leave a comment below. (And, no, you can't borrow my sewing machine. Unless we happen to live in the same apartment complex. Then we'll talk.)