Introducing Yorick

A misguided member of my church decided it would be a good idea to give us a Cyclamen as an Easter gift.

So I needed an appropriate name...

How green are my thumbs?

Not quite bright

For the third time in a row when washing our bed sheets I have thought, "I should clean up the dog's 'nuggets' before hanging out the washing."

For the third time in a row when washing our bed sheets I have gone to bring in the washing and found the fitted sheet hanging by one peg with the other end dragging around on the ground.

The chance that I have listened to my better self?

And it would mean that I don't need to buy stamps this year, except that it doesn't...

I've been working on cleaning up my study/office.

Not just cleaning up, but CLEANING UP.

Sorting through lots of pieces of paper that are no longer required and I don't need to look at again...

...and some that I possibly want to look at again from my current perspective, but realising that that is just the thought that lead me to keep the pieces of paper that I don't need to look at again, I've resolutely thrown these out too.

And in this process I've found lots of things that hadn't got into their homes. An envelope with $12 cash in it. And two separate stashes of postage stamps: Nine 50 cent fauna of the Rainforest stamps and twenty-six 45 cent Christmas stamps.

... And 20 sen from the Bank Negara Malaysia, which possibly doesn't add much to my stash, but nevertheless I found it.

So I wouldn't need to buy stamps this year, except that the cost of postage has gone up.

But still, I resent finding nearly thirty dollars worth of cash and stamps how much?

It's the only time I've ever known housework to pay. (Apart from the occasional coin in the bottom of the washing machine)

Maybe I can post Emily Sue's books back to her now.

My Vacuum Cleaner Sux

Happy Christmas!

I don't know about you, but I've heard many women complain about receiving Christmas gifts that are useful, practical and/or housework related.

My Beloved gave me the gift of clear sinuses for Christmas, Bless his little cotton socks. And I couldn't have asked for anything better.

A new Dyson vacuum cleaner, wrapped in newsprint with a red shiny bow was under the Christmas tree this morning.

I've been borrowing Mum's because I was having some real trouble with my nose/throat, and it largely disappeared after a couple of months of vacuuming with a machine that actually removed dust from the bedroom carpet.

This was a small design fault in our last vacuum cleaner. The manufacturers may wish to look into it, as funnily enough, we purchased the machine with the expressed intention of removing the dust and dog fur from the floors. I feel better spending time vacuuming when I can see a difference where I've been working.

I hope you all have had a lovely day to celebrate Christmas in whatever form your tradition dictates.

And the chance that vacuuming occurred at our place on Christmas Day?

... OF COURSE NOT. (but I can't say I didn't read the manual and assemble it)

An exercise in futility; signage rethink required; and you can't teach old dogs...

One:

I finally got around to folding and putting away some clothes this morning.

The basket was empty until 4pm when I got in two loads of washing.

Two:

I drove out to our water supply dam at lunch time because I was going to a child's birthday party in one of the parks (I hadn't asked which one, so had to check them all). At one section of the recreation reserve as I carefully navigated the honeycomb of potholes that is the dirt access road I was amused to see a sign announcing that there was a speed bump ahead.

Thanks for the warning, guys, but not really necessary.

Three:

This afternoon my Beloved put a dog door in the sliding security door of our garage.

The LBD will use it...

...if we push it open it for him.

Saint Mumsy

Well, I'm not certain she's got to two miracles yet, but I'm still nominating her.

My Mum has offered me an hour or so a week on a Wednesday afternoon to help with housework...

For free...

This has a number of good outcomes.

1. I was "paying" myself to be my own cleaner for 2-3 hours on a Wednesday afternoon. It wasn't working because there is always something more urgent than housework. Now that Mum is coming, I am disciplined... or at least, I have been for the two weeks that she's been here!

2. There are the extra things I never get around to - like cleaning windows. I love being able to see through them, but I don't often have time. Today, while I wrestled with a really grungy shower, the windows at the front door and in my office magically became shiny!

3. She comes up with good ideas, then helps make them happen. We've had mice. They got into the linen cupboard. There was evidence... over sheets and blankets and I find the thought of pulling out "clean" sheets and hearing the ting of tiny pellets hitting the floor disgusting. So ALL the linen needed washing. Mum came up with the brilliant plan of dumping everything into the bathtub, cleaning all the shelves, then took one overloaded washing basket and two huge stripy bags home to wash for me. I've been working on the rest whenever I have a part of a morning at home.

The chance that I want to swap Mums with you?

Just so you know, I still love rain.

Today is the day when as many of Mum's brothers and sisters and spouses and my cousins get together. Because we live in the same town as my grandparents and grandad has trouble travelling these days, the party is normally here in town.

So we were all systems go this end.

And it rained.

And the first lot coming from Brisbane couldn't get through because the highway was cut about 20mins from here.

Then the lot from Toowoomba couldn't get through.

Then the second lot from Brisbane who were bringing my uncle, who had flown down from Townsville as a surprise, couldn't get through.

Then the lot from Toowoomba rang to say the road was cut on the way back to Toowoomba, and they'd had to get accommodation in the little town half-way home.

Then we got a photo emailed of both lots from Brisbane because they'd had a party at a stop half-way back to Brisbane.

So Mum, Dad, my Beloved and I jumped in the car and did the flood tour of the town we live in. Some bridges that I've never seen under are under, and it's very likely the main bridge into town will go under tonight or tomorrow when the water from up-stream gets here.

Then we got home and my Beloved was looking for his shovel to shift a tree that is not happy in our backyard and he found a little situation:-

This is our house. We are built on a slope, so the garage is downstairs at the back, but the front is not full head-height.

This means that there's a space under the front part of the house which is not built in. My Beloved has been very clever and put drainage channels to stop the water getting in under the house.

Unfortunately this meant that water that gets in can't get out. We inadvertantly had a good start for the first canine hydrotherapy pool in town.

My Beloved dug a ditch to let the water out. The LBD 'helped'.

There must have been about 5cms of water lying against the slab for the garage floor.

And this is part of the culprit. The ground is so sopping wet that we have springs developing in the cutting under the house. There were a number of spots leaking.

It seems the project to get a retaining wall and put a concrete slab that drains to the outside may be more of a priority than we thought.

How much more rain do we need around here?

You know you need to clean your house when...

I was Zumbaing in my lounge room (DVDs are not as good as a real class, but a whole lot cheaper and can be on at times that are convenient to me), pounding my bare feet into the hardwood surface as I twisted and grooved when I evidently picked up some stray LBD fur on the ball of one foot.

And the chance I would ever try to Zumba in socks?

A problem. A solution. A problem. A solution.

My name is Hippomanic Jen, and I'm a book-aholic.

I love to read books.

I love to buy books.

I love to reread books.

I hate to give them away, because I might want to read it later.


I once answered a phone poll, and among other things they wanted an estimate of how many books I own. The options were along the following lines:

a 0 books
b 1 book
c 2 or 3 books
d 4 or more books.

I was astounded. So astounded that I can remember that the first and last options were 0 and 4 or more respectively. Who would have fewer than 4 books in their possession? I still don't know what the question was trying to acheive.

When we were having Dad design the house one of the essentials on the list was a wall to place our bookcases against that wasn't in a bedroom. I've known people who have had to give away thier libraries when they are expecting their second child, because they need the spare room for the new baby. This was not going to happen to us.

But over time, one acquires more books (particularly if one is studying and/or needs resources for preaching).

Then one ends up with the following problem:

Books on a cupboard in my office.

One of two huge bookcases full of books against the book wall my Dad made certain was in the house plans (it would've helped if I'd rotated the image, but you get the drift).



Books on a small shelf in the spare bedroom (it needed to be rotated too).

Books on a shelf in the cupboard in our bedroom.

Hmmm. Even though I have brought myself to do some selective culling of the book population, there are a few issues.

1. I'm asthmatic and seem to be having a problem with house dust.

2. I'm a terrible housekeeper and never have time to dust all the bookshelves.

3. I really need to rationalise book locations. After all, there is a perfectly good book wall to have a consolidated library.

The solution:

We priced cabinets with doors to keep out / minimise the dust and that would take up the entire length of the book wall (which had some space for more bookcases - but inevitably not enough length to fit the little bookcase that lives in the spare bedroom).

We measured the lineal metres of shelf required. Checked out what was available, and ordered three units (2 x 1200mm wide units and 1 x 600mm wide unit). If the skirting and cornice was removed from the sides, and they were made to fit together, they should fit perfectly. We looked at the example in the furniture shop and decided that the shelves were reasonably spaced, and that if we got the 2100mm high rather than the 1800mm high units we would get an extra shelf and that would get us closer to our desired lineal metres of shelf.

They came today.

They looked pretty.

They were heavy for the blokes to manhandle.

My Beloved had to take the skirting board off the walls along the book wall so that they'd fit. We were really hoping that the walls of the alcove were plumb. We joined the three units together and then slid them back into the space.

My Beloved pushed on the joins with his feet and I ran back and forth and pushed the ends back little by little until it fit snugly into the space.

Beautiful, hey?

Unfortunately, despite their beauty and the functionality of the new bookcases there is a problem.

We decided not to specify the distance between the shelves, because we decided that what they had was about right, why would we stuff them around any more? They were already putting doors on, and taking skirting and cornice off, and making them to fit neatly together.

It didn't even cross my mind that a taller 2100mm high bookcase would have THE SAME NUMBER OF SHELVES as the 1800mm one. (Doesn't everyone want to absolutely maximize how many books they can store? Or I might want to have all my 4 books on separate shelves, you know.)

And who would guess that those shelves would be evenly spaced, so there's not a hope of putting an extra shelf in between two existing shelves, because they are all 370mm apart and my shortest books are all 190mm tall.

One of the things I was looking forward to was not having books stacked on their sides.

Another was not having two rows of books on the shelf so that you can't see the back ones.

Grrrrr.

But my very clever Beloved has come up with a solution.

The smaller books could be stored in two rows with one behind. But this means you can't see what you've got.

However, by putting a half width shelf along the back that is slightly lower than the top of the front row (and entirely behind them) we can raise a back row so that the majority of each spine will be visible.

He is very clever, my Beloved.

And the chance that I'll let him go?

I'm shrinking!

I had heard that as we age we begin to shrink, but what no-one told me was that it can start before age 40 and can be very quick to occur...

...or maybe my Beloved just wound the washing line up so that he could mow under it on the weekend.

And the liklihood that I didn't put it back?

Resurrection

For Christmas last year I bought three tiny trees for my Beloved.

The plan was that we will have some shade in our yard one day.

There's something very disheartening about buying deciduous trees, though. By the time they were planted out in February the leaves all started screwing themselves up and dying.

Not encouraging.

Surely they are supposed to lose their leaves in autumn?


However, I've continued to water our three sticks over the winter, and last weekend noticed this:

Beautiful focus on the weeds, hey?

How likely is it that Spring doesn't start tomorrow?





...Approximately None!

Accidental Cleaning

Sometimes life gets on top of me.

I was away at regional-level church meetings this weekend. It is always great to catch up with representatives from all across this part of Queensland.

But I was busy before I left and so my packing was very much in the "grab and shove" method where you hope you've remembered everything in the 5 minutes you've devoted to the task.

I did remember all my readings and a folder to put them in.

And my pyjamas.

And a toothbrush.

And clean underwear.

So I did pretty well really.

But it was this morning when the fall-out hit me.

You see last week I used the same folder to take notes for a roster that I'm responsible for typing up before the end of this week.

And when you're doing "grab and shove" packing, you do silly things like pull the pages with the roster on it out of the folder and put them on some flat surface somewhere between the place you found the folder and where your bag happened to be when you completed the 'shove' part of proceedings.

And to know where the folder or the bag happened to be during the whole of the whirlwind 5 minutes that you were shoving stuff you remembered into the bag is not easy three days later. My brain was concentrating on "what do I need for Fri/Sat/Sun" not "where did I put the thing I must type up next week".

I've checked the bedroom floor near where I was packing clothes and can't find those pages anywhere.

I've cleaned the dining table and can't find those pages anywhere.

So I've been cleaning my office and can't find those pages anywhere, despite finding lots of other interesting stuff.

And I just pulled out the reports and notes from a weekend's worth of meetings and found the missing pages clipped in the back of the folder.

Right where they would have been from when I took them last week.

So how much work in tidying up my desk remains to be finished?

... well, I still have a little bit to do, but not very much at all!

How my bubble was burst

I was very happy this afternoon.

Although it was my official day off, I'd got heaps done.

I had chaired a meeting. (8am meetings are not my favourites, particularly when it's supposed to be my day off, but sometimes you've got to do these things)

I had done two loads of washing.

I had organised the music for Sunday's services and got it off to the organist (Friday is pushing it, but I had a funeral to take yesterday which took precedence).

After getting my order of service down I decided to watch a chick flick, then rang a friend for coffee for afternoon tea time.

I came home, intent on getting the washing in and watering the dog, I mean plants, then think about what would be good for dinner. It had been a sufficiently restful day and yet I had got some stuff done as well. Good on me!

As I went to go out the back sliding door to the washing line I was momentarily confused. The washing basket was not sitting under the washing line. I always put the basket up-side-down over the peg bucket under the washing line when I've hung out the last load...

Oh.

Nevermind, I've got it now.

The chance that the clothes in the washing machine got dry, despite excellent weather for washing day?

... Approximately None!

So where's my buffet breakfast?

Glad to be home and to have been in my own bed last night. Slept for 10 hours before needing to get up, and then I had the luxury of dozing for a few more hours.

But I was very confused to finally get up and shower and head into the dining room to have breakfast and find that there was no-one to make my roti cani, cook me pancakes or do my eggs just the way I like them.

Similarly, there was no choice of fruit sliced and ready; nor cooked noodles and beef curry; no hash browns or bacon or baked beans; no juice, or choice of cereals.

What sort of hotel is this?

Sadly, there is no-one to vacuum or clean the bathroom or make the bed. No porter to carry my groceries into the house. No laundry just around the corner who will bring me back clean and dry clothes (and even iron them if need be!).

The chance that I could afford to pay all these people?

... sadly, approximately none! *big sigh*

Not doing the housework could actually prove fatal...

Further to some of the comments regarding cleaning being over-rated from yesterday's post...

On Monday afternoon I went and got some groceries. This was pretty essential, and we now have things to eat.

(That wasn't what I was talking about with the fatal thing. I could certainly go for some days without perishing from lack of food. My Beloved does not have as much stored up for later, but even he'd last a little while.)

When I brought the groceries in, I dumped them on the kitchen floor so that I could sort them and put them away.

(Putting them away was a really good idea. It doesn't always get done, and then I find dead fruit a week later. Putting things away may not stop fatalities, but it does mean that I don't have to throw away food)

I discovered that there was some form of liquid on the floor under some of the packets, then was amazed that I hadn't smelt it before. So I dug out the bottle of ironing spray that had a loose top, regretting not getting the environmentally insensitive pressurised bottle.

(And being very glad that I hadn't remembered my cloth shopping bags, so I'd said 'yes' to plastic and the back of the car wasn't awash and pongy. I'm wonderfully consistent in my efforts to save the world.)

I cleaned up the spilt liquid with paper towel and went on my merry way. I did think I probably should wash the floor properly, but who has time to do that?

Let's jump to an entirely different topic for a bit.

(Humour me, okay)

My Beloved works in the glass windows, security screens, awnings and blinds business. This means that he picks up lots of scratchy stuff in his work boots. We have polished timber floors. So, being an absolute sweetie, he always takes off his boots before he comes upstairs.

This means that he walks around inside with his socks on much of the time.

(You can see how these stories are going to intersect, can't you?)

I was serving dinner last night when my Beloved came into the kitchen to get glasses for our drinks.

The patch which I had mopped up, but not washed properly, is right at the corner where someone entering the kitchen has to pivot and change direction to get to the cupboard where the glasses are.

The chance that he actually killed himself?

... Approximately None, but it was a pretty spectacular (and successful) attempt at regaining his balance. I reckon the only reason he didn't stack it was due to his wing span - you know how tight rope walkers have that balancing pole thing? I would have stacked it for sure.

By the way, it turns out that the ironing spray has a warning. "Aviod any accidental spraying on hard, smooth floors as they could become slippery" Whad'ya know! Total inundation seems to have the same effect.

And the liklihood I've washed the floor yet?

... "Sweetie, I'm just serving dinner, would you like to come and make drinks?"

It's all a matter of perspective...

Jen's Perspective.

Dogs are the funniest creatures. If you have a chance to watch them on any given day, they will be lying sleeping, then get up, go for a wander, come back to exactly the same spot and lie down again for another sleep.

Or maybe they will do a random sniff around the room.

Or change sleeping locations.

Or wander up to their drink bowl, decide they don't want a drink after all, and wander off again.

It all seems very restless and without purpose.


The LBD's Perspective

Humans are the funniest creatures. If you have a chance to watch them on cleaning day, they will be working in one room, then go for a wander and pick something up, come back to exactly the same spot and put the thing they just picked up in some cupboard.

Or maybe they will do a random shuffle of stuff around the room.

Or change dusting locations.

Or wander into the kitchen, decide they forgot to pick up the water glass from another room, and wander off again.

It all seems very restless and without purpose.


And the chance that I don't appreciate the humour of this situation?

... Approximatley None!

No. Such. Luck.

I fixed the vacuum cleaner.

The true state of emotion that goes with the previous statement can't be expressed without telling you a story. A story that perhaps my male readers will not be able to grasp, but a story that may well stir the hearts of the girls.

Once upon a time I was just starting out living by myself and bought the cheapest vacuum cleaner that there was, because I'd also had to buy a fridge/freezer; washing machine; TV; a dining table and some chairs. I couldn't afford anything fancy.

Not long afterwards I heard friends talking about saving up for Dyson vacuum cleaners. They sounded really good, and I loved the concept of the cleaners being bagless because I hated emptying my vacuum cleaner bag. Also, according to their reports, Dysons really suck (which is actually what you want in a vacuum cleaner).

My Beloved and I then married. We now had two (2) vacuum cleaners, neither of them new and one I had to purchase disposable bags for.

"My" vacuum cleaner burst its bag. Although I managed to stitch it up, the little red vacuum was demoted to my Beloved's shed. We now had one (1) vacuum cleaner.

My mother bought a Dyson. It was good.

I began to look hopefully for any signs that our remaining vacuum was about to die.

It died.

I celebrated secretly and began to dream...

One Saturday my wonderful Beloved came home with something for the new house that we needed and it was a surprise.

I couldn't guess at all.

He presented me with a wonderful, bagless...

...Volta vacuum cleaner.

Isn't he a wonderful, considerate, surprising, lovely bloke?

Well, the Volta does a reasonable job so long as the very centre of the head is placed directly over any matter with a diameter greater than 0.01mm - but it is bagless which makes it easy to empty once the dust gets in there. I've always been an empty-the-thing-after-you-use-it-each-time sort of girl, and my Beloved is not. But that's okay, I am now an empty-the-thing-before-I-use-it-saying-prayers-of-thankfulness-that-my-Beloved-actually-cleans-when-so-many-women-complain-that-they-don't-get-any-help-around-the-house sort of girl.

We've been using it for about three years now and I was surprised during post dust-storm cleaning when a little red light came on. I didn't know what the little red light meant. The owner's manual wasn't in my file of appliance manuals and neither of us can find it, so we couldn't work out why the little red light had come on. I was sort of hoping for something expensive to fix which meant it wasn't worth fixing, but then again, we recently threw our savings into a medical waste facility along with my wisdom teeth, so timing was dreadful if that was the case.

I got on the net to try to find information and found a manual for a different model of the same make. It has a little red light that indicates when the bag is full. I wondered whether this might be the case, even though our model is bagless, so I went and emptied the non-bag. Turned it on. No red light.

The chance that this vacuum cleaner will not last for 30 years?

... Approximately None *sigh*

Procrastination Pays

Nice and alliterative, hey?

And for my current situation - exactly right.

Well, okay, so procrastination doesn't get blog posts written. Believe me, I've got a good one brewing for the weekend before last when we went to the coast to catch up with my little brother and Giggles. But I have been busy with that slightly over-rated thing called "real life" and haven't taken the time to do more than scurry through a few of my favourite blogs to see what they've been doing. Not sufficient time to say what I've been doing. But I've been enjoying it.

However, for the last couple of evenings I've had a little mental list of things I should have been doing. Dusting and vacuuming the house, for example. I was also going to hang out a load of washing last night so that it would be dry to take in at lunchtime today. And the interior of my car certainly needs some cleaning.

I couldn't be bothered.

Surely 'can't be bothered' is not a good state to be in?

Well, it turns out that a significant part of the eastern part of Australia is undergoing a doozy of a dust storm today.

The chance that I would have felt that warm glow of acheivement if I had got all my work done?

... APPROXIMATELY NONE!!!

Okay, so this makes me an accessory after the fact?

Desperately needed to go grocery shopping last week. A couple of weeks of just getting what was essential will eventually empty the pantry, so I toddled off to the shops to restock.

Just had enough cloth bags to carry the piles of stuff from Bi-Lo, and spent a small fortune at the butcher to restock the freezer as well.

Was not terribly happy upon returning to the car to find myself stymied by my Beloved. The boot* was pretty full of husband-junk, namely a huge blue tarp and a shovel. So I had to load the groceries into the back seat.

And at this point I began to wonder what it was my Beloved had been doing that required a blue tarp and a shovel.

Now, maybe I've been watching too much TV while I've been recuperating, but the only activity I could think of was burying a body.

I don't think my Beloved is one of the types of blokes who goes around disposing of dead bodies, but they do say the wife is the last to know. There was always that time not long after we were married when the police rang up asking if my Beloved (who has a fairly common series of names) had ever lived in Mackay.

But the chances that I'm off to chat to the police about this?

... Approximately None - because I might be the next one wrapped up in the blue tarp in the boot!

UPDATE: My Beloved informs me that he used the tarp to cover a trailer load of green waste that he took to the dump** last weekend, and the shovel was to scrape out the last of the grass clippings. Likely story!

*boot = trunk
** dump = waste transfer station at the local land fill

One small step for Jen...

On Saturday my Beloved installed sliding wardrobe doors on the built-in cupboard in our bedroom. His company makes them, so they were at a good price, too.



They are brushed chrome surrounds and the mirror doors make the room look bigger and brighter.

It also gave us incentive to reduce the furniture in our bedroom, so my bookcase and dressing table are gone to another room, and we've combined our belongings into the shelves in the cupboard and Chris' lovely old timber dressing table (with bevelled mirror) that I'm standing next to in order to take this photo.

You can also see the curtains and patchwork quilt that my wonderful Mum made for us. The bedroom is now completed, save for pelmets over the curtains, the door needs to be painted, and carpet laid.

I haven't had access to a full-length mirror since we moved into our house just before Christmas 2007. It was very exciting to look forward to have some installed.

I may need to lose a little weight.

The chances that I'd admit to having been startled by movement in the bedroom when I got up Sunday morning, only to realise it was my own reflection?

... Approximately None.