A Little Housecleaning...Literally

Photo by Jonathan Francisca on Unsplash

The older I get, the more I desire a clean environment.  When you are young, you have so little that you spend a lot of energy buying and collecting things. At some point, though, you reach the apex, and you start to question all the crap you have around you. You go to those amazing craft fairs and tourist traps, and you begin to question whether you really want to spend the next 20 years dusting that personalized wooden...whatever. You start to groan when your MIL, despite having her heart in the right place, gives you another Hummel figurine, because you KNOW she is going to want it displayed (although this particular problem was temporarily solved when the toddler brought the curio cabinet crashing down and so many things busted). At some point, I became the person who will stop and do dishes in the middle of a get-together, because I simply cannot relax and tolerate the mess.

However, as much as I desire a neat environment, I work full-time outside the home and have three small boys constantly pushing the tide against me. My house will not be company ready for a few more years. 

That said, a gal can only take so much chaos, am I right? Occasionally I get the kids' dad to take them somewhere for a good chunk of the day, and I am able to get a good housecleaning in. However this only happens every couple of months, and that is just not enough. So I am going to introduce you to my survival trick for Saturdays like today.

First of all, after a crazy busy weekend last week, this weekend is blessedly open. Nothing on the table, just me and my home and my time. The best. But I awoke to a disaster. By 8 a.m. there was cinnamon toast crumbs everywhere, remnants of last night's feasting (I went to bed early instead of cleaning up) all over the table, piles of laundry waiting to be folded, dirty bathrooms, dirty carpets, some sticky, sweet something all over the floor, and a host of other horrors. I would get a picture, but the kids always steal my phone.

But I am at energy level: Recovery. This means I am relaxing as much as I can, so my stores build back up.

And that is where the 10-minute clean-up comes in. The 10-minute clean-up is exactly what it sounds like. For 10 minutes out of every hour, I straighten one room. It is important to focus on one area at a time during the 10 minutes to see progress, but you don't have to finish one room to move to another. For example, I usually start in the front room and/or dining room. They clean up the quickest, so I can see progress right away.  However, 10 minutes is usually not enough time for vacuuming, so the room is never completely done. During the next 10 minutes, I might move to the kitchen. Obviously, a trashed kitchen will not be cleaned within 10 minutes, especially since my dishwasher is broken. I might do a couple 10 minute sessions here. Sometimes I see so much progress, I keep cleaning. Sometimes I don't. Later in the afternoon, the big boys will go outside, and this is when I start to fold the laundry. Usually by the end of the day, at least the downstairs is straight and pleasant, and I don't feel wiped out or like I was cleaning all day. Plus, once he sees the positive progress I have made, Karl will usually get inspired and pitch in. And there is nothing like manly muscle for getting some jobs done (like that sticky stuff in the fridge-takes him 5  minutes to clean what I would scrub for 30).

So basically that is the lazy girl's guide to cleaning when you really just want to be a slug.

I actually use this method at work, too. When I have to start some less than stimulating paperwork, I tell myself I only have to do 10 minutes worth. Generally after 10 minutes, the flow is going and I continue working. But if I don't, I pat my back and call myself successful for meeting my goal. 

Works for me!

Cream of Wheat

 

Photo by Gaelle Marcel on Unsplash

My new favorite breakfast. For years, I was an overeasy egg on whole wheat bread with a cutie, but now, I am all about the cream of wheat. I like to put a half teaspoon of lemon curry in it as it simmers, and sometimes I stir in an egg to cook in the last minute. Then I add a sprinkle or two of creole seasoning and voila! A savory, thick breakfast. I really like that the blandness serves as a backdrop for the spicier seasonings. Sort of like tofu.

It's no wonder I have to take prilosec and tums every day.

This week was hard. I have been super-busy, which cut into my lying in bed thinking about things. I have felt lonely. I have these things to talk about, but no one to say them to. I guess that is when I need to remember to pull out a journal. Just to get them out of myself. I have used a personal journal in the past, and it absolutely helps. Writing it out here helps, but of course, this is so heavily self-censored. Trying to extract the reality of the situation without the pure openness that pisses everyone off. It's a challenging dance. 

I overindulged in wine last night. It is so hard to get that balance right, too. Sometimes. I only know it is too much when I find myself staring at my messenger list trying to see who is on, aching for some sort of connection, but knowing I will never actually reach out and chat with someone. I just am not fond of putting myself onto other people. If they are interested, they will come to me. Most of the time, though, I prefer the aloneness. And I wasn't actually alone. It wasn't me and a bottle of wine in an empty, grey-walled room with a lone chair and scrubbed pine table. It's never like that. It's never desperate, or excruciating, or even pitiful. Just an every-now-and-then wow, wouldn't it be nice to have just a few people to laugh with, feeling. But I tend to push too hard with my words and make it appear much worse. I sort of enjoy doing that. 

So Gabe came in early, and I awoke at four for good. I know some day I will sleep very alone, so I should relish the little, warm bodies that like to snuggle up, but at two a.m. it can be tough. At 10 p.m. it's intolerable. I like to turn on a bit of something, delta waves sounds or thunderstorms, snuggle into a pile of pillows, one between my knees, turn onto my side and drift off into oblivion completely alone. Other bodies ruin that peace. 

I spent a few minutes reading through old blogs I used to follow. Most of them were homeschooling moms who loved natural, country life, some Christian, some new age. We all shared an affinity for home-baked goods, hand-knitted pretties, Waldorf dolls, and the idea of a simple life. Most of them now have older children and update their blog once a year or so. Retreating into romanticism is easy when your children are toddlers, but much more difficult when older children are fighting to fit into the outside world of activities, sports, and all the bourgeois cliched traps we fall into. Their lives as mothers cease to be read-worthy, and their interests start expanding beyond the home and children. I have watched this pattern unfold over the two and a half decades of the internet which have shaped, and possibly ruined my life. I guess it always was such. It just wasn't documented for strangers to see. 

Sometimes I look at these things and think I must be such an ISFJ. Or maybe ISTJ. Just longing for simplicity. But then think of how, while I love the idea of such things, I am almost just as contented forming my identity around the ideals, but never actually creating that lifestyle. Ideas are 95% of the prize. If I don't follow through on the actual follow-through to create the material lifestyle-well, who cares? It almost certainly exists and is enough in my head. Then I think MBTI is pure crap anyway. People are multi-faceted and complex and capable of change, and cannot be sorted into a simple system. Unfortunately, decades of reading about it have strengthened the pathways to MBTI to interstates in my brain, and I can't ever get away from it. It is there and isn't leaving. Like religion, I guess. It's weird how on one hand, you can absolutely not believe something, and on the other, it is vividly alive in your head. 

Last night they said it would snow today. I hope! I hope! I want accumulating snow, so the boys can go out and play. I want them to sled with friends down the road (I know that's a long shot) and just enjoy the pleasure of snow.  And I'll make crappy snow ice cream and pretend it is amazing, as the boys make memories that will grow in their souls and carry them through adulthood.

There is something simple and wholesome and homesteading-worthy about cooking up a batch of cream of wheat on a cool morning. I wonder if there is a romantic buzz inside my head as I stand before the stove stirring as I imagine people have stirred porridgy-gruelly breakfasts for centuries. I wonder if my brain is just trying to hold on to the lost dreams each morning as I sell my soul and leave home to earn money. George Carlin was right. They do own us. And we sell ourselves and our friends and coworkers out over and over again, to fight for a small spot of something-whether it matters or not-so we can buy a bit of gruel to stir on a stove to just survive a bit longer. 

The Bookish Life of Nina Hill and the After Series

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The Bookish Life of Nina Hill 

was recently loaned to me by a coworker. I read it quickly, as I found Nina somewhat akin to my soul. From books to a bookshop, to a perfect sounding apartment, Harry Potter references, and trivia-Nina is just living the introvert life. She really gets out quite a lot despite calling herself an introvert-she just doesn't go for empty, mindless pleasure. Nina is likable and relatable and this book is nothing if not a modern day fairy tale for bibliophiles. My only issue with Nina is how she didn't just clear off a page in her book for Prince Charming (whose profession is DELIGHTFUL), because she stuck to her plans too stringently. I couldn't do that-I'd toss the planner out the window for romance, but overall, it was a lovable fun book.

After

I have been craving romance lately, and after watching After, the movie, on Netflix, I found myself hooked. I went ahead and purchased the book and read through it quickly. I am not going to go into great detail of the harrowing, morally questionable journey I am going through right now 

(but you can read all about it in my other blog, right here!), 

but I am going to say, I like it and I don't care who cares.

After We Collided

I am currently reading the second book in the series, After We Collided. And you know what? I am loving it. I know the drama is ridiculous-the characters are so immature-and the misunderstandings abound. But alas, wouldn't life be dull if we couldn't dive into the fictional, dysfunctional, passionate relationships of interesting and beautiful characters?

Now, I have the house to myself for several hours, and I am alternating cleaning with reading (trading off,  straightening one room and reading a chapter). Perfect. I really just wish someone would drop off some laundry detergent and a can of pumpkin so I could make pumpkin bread on this overcast day (and do laundry). 

This day is fabulous!

Bathroom painting DIY / Free Boho Printable Freebie!

SEE BELOW for FREEBIE

Master Bath Painting

I am in the midst of painting the bathroom. I am the queen of half-asserie it appears. I live in an older 1970's home and frankly I love the retro vibe it has. Low ceilings, boxy rooms-this is my early childhood revisted. While the warm, cozy colors are what attracted me to this house in the first place, I find myself slowly replacing them with cooling, soothing colors. Except the front door. I wanted a rich, deep black for the front door, but somehow ended up with Terra Cotta Rose. Who knew?

Meanwhile, I went to paint the master bath (which was a warm golden yellow) a soothing shade called Highest Mountain Mist. If you have ever visited the alpine ridges you know the emotional appeal of anything mountain. So with a name like Highest Mountain Mist, well, this greeny color had to be mine. 

Before:

During:

OH MY GOSH! I had no idea the cabinets were so worn. My husband and I are both very much in our head type people. I just didn't "see" this. I am sure the cats are responsible. 

Really loving the counter/sink paint.

Problems? Who has Problems?

Sadly though I ran out of tape halfway through the taping. So, what a girl to do? That's right, start painting anyway! This is where the half-asserie comes in. So I splotched paint on the ceiling and reminded myself, heck, I'll touch it up later. I got paint on the woodwork. Not so pretty. I will try some kind of paint thinner or something later. If that doesn't work, I guess I will paint it. Personally the woodwork would look better with the highest Mountain mist if it were white, but...I'm tired, folks. 

Messy!

When the painting of the walls is complete and cleaned up, I will probably paint the wooden mirror frame and the deep wooden cabinets. I guess I will have to go white, like everyone else in the world, because it needs to match the cooler walls and the white sink (which I repainted last week). I am SO happy with the sink refinishing. I did my half-asserie work there as well, and it is still 100x greater than what I had before. Before it was a light almond fake marble with a gold glitter vein running through it. I actually would have lived with it, however, the paint in the sink was literally wearing away to the fiberglass or whatever the sink was made of. And hair color stains completed the look. I like it so much better now, but the white is bright and does strain my eyes a bit. 

This is what I used on the countertop. It only took one can! I have enough to do the shower next.

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After:

Light on

Light off 

And now the freebie!!