Housekeeping and sleep, or skivvies and herring.

[mrissa]

I do not set myself up as the world's pinnacle of the art of housekeeping. Heaven knows a few things around here could use cleaning right this minute. But people, people: when you drop a pair of skivvies behind the dryer, fetch them out again. Use tongs or the broom handle or whatever you need. Because they will not disappear back there. They will not crumble into dust. They will not find the door to Narnia; everyone knows that's in the pantry.* They will get extremely dirty, and if the washing machine transmission breaks and leaks oil and transmission fluid all over the floor, they will get soaked in it. And if you no longer live in that house, the next owner will have to clean up your dirty, oily, dusty, fluid-soaked undies. Does she want to do that? No. She does not.

On the up side, the new dryer is very shiny, and the area under both washer and dryer is squeaky-clean. And all before lunchtime.

Also! After I dropped markgritter at the airport, I had breakfast and went back to bed. I slept for two more hours! It was lovely. I could no longer intone, "Braaaaains!" and have someone believe I was an actual zombie. It's a very fine thing. (This is one of the drawbacks of being Scandahuvian: we can't go outside for more than approximately 15 seconds without sunblock, including cloudy days, and just one morning of the alarm going off at 4:50 will make us seem to be some flavor of horrific undead creature. On the up side, we know a million things to do with herring and will teach you if you're nice to us. The fact that there don't seem to be legends about vampiric fixation on herring bears testimony to the fact that we mostly stayed home after that embarrassing yet fruitful period of pillaging your coastlines. Because you know Sven Forkbeard went shambling around the color of skim milk, cutting people's heads off and attempting to take their herring, when he hadn't gotten enough sleep due to Olaf Bignose's snoring back on the boat.)

The list is very detailed this week. While I tackle some of the list items, I'm turning phonemes over in my head. Preparatory exercises, one supposes. In the meantime, there will be brussels sprouts for lunch.

No, that's a good thing.

*Do not leave your skivvies in my pantry. The Narnians don't want them, either.

Comments

[jebbypal]

I don't know, the entire experience is almost worth it (on this end) just for the addendum of Narnians not wanting our skivvies.

Very glad I'd finished lunch.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Yah, on that end! Next time the previous owner has left me something nasty in an unexpected place, I will make as many Narnian jokes as you like if you'll clean it up.

[jebbypal]

sure, if you pay the plane ticket from philly to you:P

[adrian-turtle.livejournal.com]

I do not know if disposals are standard issue in kitchen sinks where you live (or if you have them in everything *but* the kitchen sink, which would be Just Silly.) But skivvies in the disposal is bad news. Very bad news. Not quite the worst news it is possible to have while remaining in good health, but definately not good. If a person is going to wash skivvies in the kitchen sink, count them.

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Umm. Yes, quite.

We do indeed have a disposal, and I wouldn't much like to do without one. I know people manage, but I'm not used to managing, so whenever I do dishes where there isn't one, I am a bit discombobulated.

[rosefox]

When I was growing up, they were illegal in Manhattan (and may still be; certainly I've never been in a Manhattan home that had one). It was many years before I finally figured out why my mother, who had grown up in Connecticut, always tossed eggshells into the sink when I knew perfectly well they went in the trash.

[von-krag.livejournal.com]

I put one in Queens when I was there in the late '70's. I didn't know they are illegal, wonder why?

[rosefox]

Old sewers. The ban was lifted in 1997 but most homes still don't have them.

[dichroic.livejournal.com]

I am currently without one. It's not my first time - I lived in an old house in college one year that had very old pipes and no disposal - but it's been a long time. The only thing that keeps it from being very difficult is that, with no freezer, a tiny fridge and only a small microwave/convection over/grill combination thingie that's smaller than my US microwave (and whose instructions are all in Dutch), we're not doing much cooking. Fortunately, we have nearly every kind of restaurant food in the world within ten minutes' walk.

Also, a trash can with a foot-operated lid right by the sink helps enormously.

PS. If I have no pantry, does that mean no door to Narnia? Or does it relocate to an ordinary kitchen cabinet?

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

I am not at all convinced that there is a door to Narnia in anyone's pantry but mine. You would have to see my pantry to know what I mean. It has doors within doors. You will have to look harder than that to find your local door to Narnia.

[aszanoni.livejournal.com]

-paroxysm of delighted laughter-

And don't even bring up Bjorn. Everyone knows about Bjorn. (Yes, THAT Bjorn.) Ahem.

Ohhhh. The bird is jealous because he doesn't know why I'm laughing.

Good sleep. Good laughter. -much rejoicing-

- Chica

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Oh, you can read my posts to the bird. I don't mind.

[aszanoni.livejournal.com]

Thank you...

-wide grin- I cannot get far with a straight face - my lips start to curl, and then it's all over. I can TRY reading it aloud.

- Chica

[evangoer.livejournal.com]

I wish you had bestowed your vast herring knowledge on me earlier, before I tried to cut down the mightiest tree in the forest with one. Thanks for nothing!

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Oh, come on, like you had no idea who to call for herring trivia! You had your choice of me or Ben; either would have done just fine. It's not my fault you didn't ask.

"The Narnians don't want them, either."

[aet.livejournal.com]

... unless they have been moving recently and ... but that is, thanks to the changes in skivvies fashion, probably a dated story.

Anyway, that is the story a young bride from around 70 years ago, who moved to a new house and decided to start off with everything new ... only to find out that after couple of miles in horse drawn cart her furniture needed dusting and she had packed no rags due to her "everything new" policy.

So a perfectly good pair of her panties had to change the career into dust rag before their time ...

(also, all the above does not have anything to do with machine oil soaked former undies. Just with nice clean ones that would come useful for the Narnians if they, too, mean to move houses ...)

Re: "The Narnians don't want them, either."

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Heh.

I gleefully tore one of markgritter's ugliest shirts into dustrags the first day we were in our own apartment.

It really was a very ugly shirt.

[carbonel]

In the meantime, there will be brussels sprouts for lunch.

No, that's a good thing.

I had some truly wonderful brussels sprouts at the cafe at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They were roasted with garlic and pancetta, and were just the right texture. They plus the latte I ordered at the same time were the perfect item to fill in the gap between breakfast at 9 am and afternoon tea at 3 pm.

(I spent the weekend in New York with my mother as a birthday present. Looking back, I think we spent our time mostly eating, with short intervals of walking and watching plays and going to museums. Must go back soon.)

[mrissa.livejournal.com]

Pancetta. Interesting....