-Rug Doctor. EvilRoomie and I paid 38 dollars for all the things we needed to rent it. Our carpets are still ugly-ass green, but they’re clean now. And they don’t smell like an old person anymore. The sense of accomplishment when you dump out the dirty water and think Oh, that isn’t in my carpet anymore! is so nice. Plus our hand-me-down couches look like new. (Quite impressive when you consider that it was in a movie theater balcony and had popcorn and soda spilled on it countless times.)
-The pieces of antique quilt that EvilRoomie got for $1 a strip. We now have 9 sunbursts in need of minor repair and pillow-making supplies. These things are hand quilted antiques, people. For a total of 3 dollars.
-The current whacko craft project, which involves making a hanging lamp out of a beachball. Yes, I shellacked a beachball.
How about you, Dopers? Anything domestic that is making you happy now?
This is not thing-oriented, it’s more process-oriented: 1 load of laundry a day.
Our former laundry method was to wait until I or the hubby were out of underwear (triggering a Whites frenzy) or black socks (bringing about a Colors jihad.)
I would lug our hampers downstairs (after picking up all the dirty clothes off the floor where they were piled up because the hampers were full, and cramming them in, too), and then do three or four loads of laundry. When the dryer finished the first load, this would precipitate another crisis. My laundry baskets were still full of folded clothes from the last laundry panic, you see. I’d have to cram my overfull drawers and closet (still working on this problem, I’m afraid . . .) with clean clothes so I’d have empty baskets for the new batch of clean clothes. Then I’d spend almost a whole day (it seemed like it at the time, anyway) folding, folding, folding, cursing the growing mateless-sock pile, and folding. Then I would collapse, exhausted. For the next couple of weeks, we’d live out of the laundry baskets, and in the process of digging through the clothes for what we want, we’d end up unfolding what once was folded and wrinkling things that really should have been hung in the closet. Until we ran out of socks or underwear . . .
Then I started doing http://www.flylady.com. I put “Put away laundry” on my Before-Bed routine. Lo and behold: empty laundry baskets! And I added “laundry check” to my morning routine: Is there a full load in the Colors hamper or the Whites hamper? If so, put one load in the empty (hurray!) basket, take it down to the laundry room, and start the load. (Note to self: make sure the hubby isn’t in the shower before starting the washer.) On my Homecoming routhine: Check laundry. Is there a wet load to put in the dryer? When the dryer finishes, fold it. (It’s only one load, now, so I can fold it while watching the Simpsons after dinner and be done in minutes.) Then we’re back to my before-bed routine: Put the clean clothes away. Again, it’s just one load’s worth, so I’m done almost before I started.
That’s my little breakthrough. Stunningly obvious, in retrospect, but I often need a swift kick in the tooshie to realize these things.
I have a gigantic chart in the kitchen, listing in a sort of mental mindmap what everybody takes in their tea and coffee. And I mean EVERYone who EVER COMES HERE, filed according to some system I have forgotten, but it almost works.
It’s a nice sort of a reminder that people like us.
My lapdesk. It’s got a big flat top to write or draw or lay out whatever I’m working on, and a big storage compartment to hold all the stuff I need for most smallish projects. I don’t have to get up and go hunting for the scissors, or the template plastic, or the wire-cutters, or whatever, because it’s all right there. When I get done for a bit, I can tuck it all back in the box and have it out of the way until next time. And I made it all by my own little self, start to finish, with my own tools. The lid’s a smidge out of square, but it’s a pretty damn good effort for someone just getting used to building stuff.
Most arts and crafts. I like making things, and I especially like making things for people. It makes people happy to get quilts and stuff, and it makes me happy to see them happy.
I scored at a rummage sale a hand sewn vintage quilt. $25. It’s too small for our bed and too big for the kids and I don’t care. It is on my half of the bed and I swear I sleep better knowing that **Elma Reynolds[/ b] made this with such care thirty-forty years ago.
The sound of pouring hot water in a coffee cup. It’s so comforting.
The way steam rises off the coffee cup is hypnotic and tranquil.
I have to agree about pouring out the carpet cleaning dirty water. A most satisfying moment. except when you leave the water in the container for too long – - - - a couple of weeks —and it was last used to clean barf out of a carpet. Pouring it out is a most noxious experience.
Organizing the pantry is a twice a year thing for me. Taking eveyrthing out and putting it back in the way it should be (for me) and then stepping back and just savoring its tidyness is a good feeling. Then I close the pantry door and the pantry reverts back to its natural feral state.
This is hysterically funny. Props to you podkayne.
Getting things organized. The little Adrian Monk inside me just loves getting the CDs and DVDs back in alphabetical order after the husband and kids have been at them, screwing around with my nice neat alphabetical order. Why can’t they see how nice it is to have them all in order? Makes it much eaier to find what you’re looking for.
In that same vein, straightening up the linen closet or pantry shelf. Again, it’s the sloppy others who insist on living with me messing up my nice neat shelves, and I have to follow behind and clean up their messes.
The pantry shelves are the worst. Someone goes looking for a snack, rummages around, and I have to straighten it back up. Snack cakes here, canned goods here, cereal boxes here, standing up thank you, not tipped over.
But I kinda like doing it.
Washing dishes. I don’t have a dishwasher, and sometimes I really wish I did, but at the same time, I like the process of washing each thing, sudsing it up and rinsing it clean, the feel of the hot water running over my hands… it’s soothing.
I like to vacuum. I have a really good one, and it’s very satisfying to run it, and then to put the hose attachment on and clean cobwebs from the ceiling. Except I like to do that often enough that there aren’t any really good cobwebs to suck up.
I love a good quilt too, but I’ve recently seen a suede duvet cover that I’ve been coveting for weeks. I don’t really need a suede duvet cover, and I’d have to buy new sheets to match (oh no! wouldn’t that just be a shame?), but I think it would make me happy enough to be worth it. I just might indulge myself.
