I had a rather astounding thought occur earlier today. It stopped me in my tracks. Maybe I’ll try my hand at housewifery. It may have occurred to me before but it didn’t work out somehow.
Today will go down in history as the day I bought a vacuum cleaner. Been telling husband we need a new one for over a year. I made the command decision to buy one without previous consultation or discussion ad nauseam. The new toy is purple and looks a bit garish out in the back yard but that’s not where I’m going to use it so, so what.
Used to hate vacuum cleaners because they were noisy, dusty and expensive. I also thought that any bourgeoisie capitalist that owned one was too lazy to sweep the floor. My how things have changed. This viewpoint morphed a bit over the years. Trying to dust mop an entire house recently cured me altogether. I just wish cleaning gadgets were, well… more fun to look at and actually worked. The one that I am kicking to the curb in the morning sucked stuff in the front and shot it out the back so hard it stung my ankles.
What would be really cool is the one in this photo of Hugh Jackman in Van Helsing. It’s a repeating cross-bow that looks like it’s made with scavenged vacuum cleaner parts. Now that’s what I’m talking about. A useful AND fun gadget.
When it comes to cleansers, I’m a minimalist. Have never seen the logic in having separate chemicals for every bit of your house. Toilet cleaner, counter cleaner, hardwood cleaner, tile cleaner, wood cleaner, upholstery cleaner, laundry soap, bleach silver polish, brash polish, it boggles the mind.
I bought a can of Woolite rug cleaner last year and after getting it home and reading the fine print it is “not recommended for use on Wool.” Huh? I’m amazed thousands of people don’t drop dead every year from gassing themselves with all these stupid chemicals. And it says right there on the bottles, do not mix this stuff. Yet people mix the fumes by using one in the bathroom and another one 5 feet away in hall.
I had to take a friend to the hospital once because she mixed bleach and ammonia in the toilet bowl. I didn’t ask why, but she’s one of those people who thinks that if you aren’t in pain you didn’t try hard enough. They wanted to keep her overnight, but she wouldn’t stay. Another case of house wife masochism to add to the statistics.
When left to my own devices, and no one is micromanaging me, I could clean the whole house, top to bottom, with Windex and Lemon Oil. That’s it, don’t need all that other junk and I hate the way it smells. Floors, counter, stove, ceiling fan, furniture, picture frames, cat, dog, or anything that gets in my way would submit to these 2 ingredients.
Ever since I moved in with the husband, we have had a housekeeper who comes once a week. Looking back I didn’t realize how much exercise I got cleaning house. I’ve put on at least 20 pounds from this luxury alone. When she misses a week and I do some of the major cleaning I almost have a stroke. It’s hard work!
My husband collects DVDs. There are so many of them in this house that I’m considering starting a bonfire. At last count, there are almost 800 of the nasty things crammed in our walk in closet. Years ago husband had a carpenter come in here and make custom shelves for them. This is before I came on the scene. My mistake. Should have checked out his closets before I married him. Maybe I will write a letter to that Hoarder show on TV and see if he is eligible for a visit from a pop-psychologist.
The damned things are like rats. I am convinced that they multiply during the night. If there is an apocalypse we’re covered. We won’t have electricity, but maybe I can get him to buy one of those bikes that you pedal to power the TV, just in case. The DVDs used to be in some kind of order. I ambushed him with a label maker and threatened acts of violence if something wasn’t done about the confusion. That solution lasted about 3 months, until the amount of DVDs again grew out of the space provided. Now there is a stack of 15 new ones collecting dust on the bookcase by the TV.
He has a plan in the works to have a carpenter come in and build MORE shelves in his office. To add to the outrage, Mr. Husband announced yesterday that he intends to replace all his favorites with Blu-rays. Yippee, can’t friggin wait.
I am a minimalist. Building more shelves to store more junk in this already over stuffed house is about as appealing as cleaning out a collection of neglected cat litter boxes. Maybe worse. Netflix is where it’s at, in my opinion. So much less wasteful. Don’t have to storage problems. A little elbow room and more space for my shoes. Now, if I could only convince the hub-man.
Better yet, next boy’s night out I’m going to convert the entire bedroom into a closet. Trouble is he would probably like that and rush out the door to buy more stuff.
Interesting concept on this site: In a World Where…Everyone Has a Library
Photo Credit: Nick Stone.
Copyright © Serenity Game
A question that I ask Mr. Husband frequently is “how can I miss you if you’re never gone?” Sounds kinda cold on the face of it but let’s dig a little deeper. The hub-man works from home is also a home body by nature. He is a hermit with separation anxiety, if that makes any sense. If he actually does leave the house he calls me at least once, usually more, while he’s gone. “What kind of pickles do you want?” My reply “didn’t know we needed pickles. I don’t want pickles, as a matter of fact I hate pickles. Stop calling me.” … 10 minutes later the phone rings again. Guess who?
Before we married I considered asking for a prenuptial agreement. The terms would be that he agreed to leave the house, without me, for a duration of 3 hours, once per month. Furthermore he was to agree that during that time he would not call me. If he was dying the hospital would call. In other words, give me some breathing room. Should have stuck to my guns.
I have often pondered the mystery of how he managed to not grow mold from lack of sunlight before we met. This is a man who took the concept of the man cave and went to the extreme. He had light blocking shades on the bedroom windows. The kitchen windows looking out over the back yard were covered with wood blinds, closed of course. The great view to the patio through the sliding glass doors was blocked by a heavy, dark wood, shuttered room divider that collapsed with a thunderous crash if you batted your eyelashes too vigorously. Some progress is underway after 6 years of whittling away at the darkness. The blinds are in a dump somewhere. The room dividers were passed to his niece. (I bet the darn things were fashioned from the bones of ancestors.)
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