Author Archives: Swistle

The Little Stranger

I finished The Little Stranger by Sarah Waters. It falls into this category: “Books I loved all the way through, skipping other activities to read them—and then got to the end and was disappointed because there was not the kind of careful explanation I wanted.”

I don’t like books to leave me wondering and speculating. I am not someone who thinks to herself with a shrug, “Isn’t it wonderful to leave some things UNKNOWN in this unsurprising world!” or “Well, there are things that just defy explanation.” That might be fine for real life when there’s no other choice, but not for fiction: NOTHING defies explanation in FICTION. The creator of the book’s world is the author; all things are known to the author—and so I want those things revealed to me kthanx.

I realize not everyone wants this. Some of us like little Belgian detectives tying up all the loose ends, and some of us would rather stare thoughtfully into space thinking over the various possibilities. And at least The Little Stranger isn’t the kind of book that makes it clear the author got caught up in leaving tantalizing details but then couldn’t think of an ending that made sense with them (Plain Truth by Jodi Picoult, I am looking in your direction); it’s one of those old-fashioned stories where the narrator is telling a story that happened to him, and he never did find out the reason it happened, and so we don’t either. It’s a subtle difference, and one that’s meaningful to me—BUT I STILL WANT TO KNOW WHAT HAPPENED. Supernatural or not? And if supernatural, what KIND of supernatural? And if not supernatural, what KIND of not-supernatural, and HOW? TELL ME, SARAH WATERS. I DEMAND TO KNOW. If I don’t find out, a part of my dream-self will detach and leave scary scribbles under the paint of your house. Well, or I’ll be PRETTY FRUSTRATED. One or the other.

Two Happy Little Cleaning Things

Two positive side-effects of Teh Cleaning, even when I am not officially cleaning:

1. I’m gradually tossing out some stuff I don’t use.
2. I’m gradually USING UP some stuff I DO use.

I have inclinations toward hoarding, and I usually have half a dozen bottles of stuff with half an inch of stuff left in each: I don’t want it to be GONE. I also usually have half a dozen bottles of stuff I bought and didn’t particularly like but don’t really want to throw out, either: what if there were a sudden emergency and I was so grateful to have the meh shampoo?

Not now, though. Shampoo and conditioner I used to love and so repurchased when I saw it recently, but it turns out now I hate it: in the trash. Last four uses of a shampoo I DO love but have been saving for months because OMG it’s Almost Gone: used it up. Last two evening primrose oil capsules: put in pill reminder to take during expected PMS. Last use of Special Expensive Conditioner: used up. Old bottle of melatonin sitting there because only the ones I’d cut in half were left so I’d started a new bottle: added to new bottle. This is probably the way some of you live ALL THE TIME.

In fact, this led me to tidy up my vitamin shelf. Bottle with a dozen prenatal vitamins left in it: flung recklessly into trash. Two bottles of folic acid (my daily multivitamin already has folic acid in it): flung recklessly into trash. Bottle of B-6 recommended for pregnancy nausea: flung recklessly into trash. I figured that if “just in case” were to ever present itself, I would be more than happy to run to Target to repurchase those items.

First Task: Completed!

Attention everyone: cleaning progress has been made!

When I was reading the comments on the original post, my plan was to choose the idea that most appealed to me. The one that grabbed my attention was Sarah’s of Semi-Desperate Housewife: she suggested starting with the dustwebs in the corners. I have a mop-like item I bought in a fit of Cleanliness Resolve that I knew I could for this: it has a washcloth-like thingie that goes over it and can be turned inside-out halfway through to get a fresh surface.

 

Approximate time taken: 40 minutes

Resentment levels: Low—I didn’t feel like I was cleaning up SOMEONE ELSE’S dustwebs, though I did have a brief “You know, I am the ONLY ONE in this house who would EVER do this chore” feeling.

Exertion levels: Moderate. I’m not used to having my arms up like that or my neck tilted like that, and the mop-thing was awkward to use. There was one corner I couldn’t reach (we have a split foyer) and I threw a damp washcloth at it again and again until I got it. My aim, it is poor; but my children, they were greatly entertained.

Satisfaction levels: Medium-high. Those dustwebs caught my eye FREQUENTLY. Now my eye keeps going to the clean corners. Also, I feel as if The Cleaning Project has been LAUNCHED.

 

So! If you are playing along, my suggested first assignment is to read the comments section on the first post and choose whatever catches YOUR eye. Then come back here and report! (I found the “reporting” aspect Very Motivating: when I was working I kept thinking of how I’d get to TELL YOU I’d been working.)

Housework Mullings

Perhaps you are starting to wonder why there has been no continuation of the Let’s! all! clean! house!! enthusiasm. It is because…well, it is because I have so far made no photographable progress. Like, I have not actually put anything away, thrown anything out, or cleaned anything.

But! I am gearing up, and in many ways that IS progress, much as it is progress to go from thinking of a diet as an optional activity to thinking of it as inevitable and imminent.

I have been looking around my house with a New Eye. I have been thinking to myself, “When I get started, THAT will go.” I’ve been mulling often on the theme of housework. Here are the themes I most often mull on:

 

Something is better than nothing. I can get in a mode where I feel like since it is impossible to make and maintain a perfect household, I might as well not do anything at all; because I will not be able to clean and organize the whole thing before company comes, I might as well not even start. I read an article once that referred to this as “frustrated perfectionism.”

An all-or-nothing approach doesn’t work for me anywhere in life (I drink diet Coke and I eat hot fudge sundaes with nuts; I use handkerchiefs and I use bleach; I breastfeed and I have scheduled c-sections), so it’s silly of me to try to be all-or-nothing about housekeeping. It really is better to do a LITTLE than to do NOTHING, and I remind myself of this again and again.

 

Start with what appeals. It’s pretty silly to be pairing up mittens in the coat closet when there’s a puddle of orange juice on the kitchen floor, but that’s what I did the last time my mother-in-law was coming for a visit. I did super-thorough cleanings/organizations of the coat closet (how did I not take any photos?) and the bathroom closet. Not only was it motivating, those areas stayed tidy a LOT longer than the kitchen floor did. AND I felt as if anyone looking in those areas would figure I was actually a neat and tidy person who just happened to have orange juice on the floor—as opposed to what they’d assume if the house looked nice until they opened a closet and the house’s contents fell out of it.

 

Prioritize. This is the opposite of the previous one. I use them both, because different moods benefit from different techniques. I use “prioritize” when I’m getting spinny and frantic over not being able to pair up all the mittens. I shift gears then, and try to do the quick things that make big splashy differences instead of the complicated things that make subtle long-term differences.

One of my professors used to start the semester by saying that students could accomplish an 80% effect (i.e., a B) for a 20% effort—but that if they wanted that extra 20% effect (i.e., an A) they would need to put in the other 80% effort. He seemed to mean that they should do that other 80% (though perhaps what he actually meant was “Don’t think you’re hot stuff if you get a B in this class”), but what I took away was that it was smarter to stop at 20%. My house can be cleaned to a B level, or I can work 5 times as long and get it to A? Not worth it to me. (Same in the areas of fitness, fashion, parenting, and, yes, schoolwork.)

 

Keep going. Tackling housework makes me see what an insurmountable mountain it really is. It can be hard to continue chipping away at it when it doesn’t seem to be getting much better, or when it’s getting worse at about the same rate it’s getting better. But it IS getting better. See also: something is better than nothing.

 

C.A.Y.G. What, you didn’t read housekeeping magazines for the comics? This was in one of my grandmother’s magazines, and it was one of the few articles I read. C.A.Y.G. stands for Clean As You Go, and it’s the idea that ACCUMULATION is what drowns/saves us. Refill the sugar bowl when you have the sugar out already to make muffins. Put away the glue right after you’re done using it. Put the batteries away as soon as you bring them home from the store. Rinse the measuring cup after you use it.

 

Does it bless or does it oppress? This is one of those nauseating sayings my mom and I can’t help using because it works so well. We have to put the word “bless” in verbal airquotes every time we use it. It is well worth it, because this is how I got rid of TWO sets of silverplate flatware, one from each set of grandparents. It OPPRESSED me. It’s how I get rid of things that I feel I SHOULD keep or SHOULD want but I DON’T: my great-grandmother’s china; a pair of sneakers autographed by Rosie O’Donnell; things I was sooooo happy to find on really! good! deals! but don’t really want anymore; stuffed animals from my childhood I don’t love anymore but feel guilty discarding as if they never meant anything. And it’s how I know I want to KEEP something that feels as if it should be in the same category as the things I’m pitching.

The Believers

I finished reading The Believers by Zoë Heller. I liked it so much I was startled and sad to have reached the end. BUT! I did not think at first that I was going to like it. I was maybe 40 or 50 pages in and I was thinking, “Oh, I see: this is a book where we demonstrate our mastery of vocabulary words and complicated sentence structures, make superior and cynical remarks about our characters that reflect badly on human nature at large and the reader in particular, and generally show the world to be a crabby and unpleasant place where people suffer unnecessarily, fail each other constantly, put up with what they shouldn’t, judge each other mercilessly on every minor detail, and fail to notice their own hypocrisies and contradictions. Good, good. How many pages? 335? Huh. No, that’s good. I’ll just…read a People magazine for right NOW, and come back to this LATER.”

I persevered because Sundry liked another book by this author, and I like to like what Sundry likes. And yay for fawning devotion, because at some point I CLICKED IN to the book, and from then on I was completely absorbed, bringing the book with me to the kids’ swimming lessons even though I knew full well I wouldn’t get any reading done with Henry dropping his toy and asking questions and taking off his shoes and demanding his sandals and telling me to kiss his arm and so forth, and I was reading the book in the evenings when I COULD HAVE BEEN ON THE COMPUTER, and I was laughing OUT LOUD at certain parts (Audrey: “Are you HIGH?”) even though it drives me crazy when Paul does that because I know he’s trying to get me to say “WHAT?”

I got to the last page this evening, and my heart fell. Somehow even with my left hand growing increasingly heavy and my right hand knowing it gripped little more than the bare cover, I hadn’t realized the end was so near. I went back and re-read the last two pages, because the first time I hadn’t read them Knowing They Were the Last Two Pages and I needed a do-over.

Definition

Now, don’t laugh at me. But what is “drunk”? Like, where does it go from “feeling a little funny from having unaccustomed wine” to “drunk”? How does a person know if he/she ever HAS been drunk or not?

Choose-Your-Own-Adventure Housecleaning

HERE IS THE THING:
I do want to clean the house for my mother-in-law’s visit. I do. Not ONLY for her visit (though that is the motivation, just as a dress-up occasion might be the motivation for a diet) but also because BEEZUS. It’s due for an overhaul.

 

HERE IS WHAT I’VE NOTICED:
1. Tidiness is a knack and a skill and an inclination, and it requires an allocation of both time and energy. I am not sure those of us inclined to messiness can ever truly become Tidy, but certainly we can learn to fake it for special occasions.

2. Tidy people disagree vehemently on what is the best way to achieve and maintain tidiness. One tidy person will say “Get rid of every single item you haven’t used in the last week/month/year!” while another has a storage system. One tidy person will say “Decorative items do nothing but collect dust! Pitch them out!” while another suggests you put out the pretty stuff currently taking up basement storage space. One tidy person will say “Don’t get overwhelmed: just concentrate on cleaning one small area thoroughly, then move on to the next small area” while another will say “Let’s not polish dark corners while we still have heaps of stuff in the middle of the floor.”

3. Just as there is no one single diet/fitness program that works for everyone, there is no one single tidiness program that works for everyone. For myself, I find I like to take a little of this, a little of that. There are some times when I would rather take everything out of a closet, clean the closet, and carefully sort/clean/organize everything I put back in. There are other times when I need to be reminded that it’s better to make a passing swipe at the counter with a damp rag than let it stay covered in crumbs and puddles because it seems like there’s no sense bothering if I’m not going to pick up every single thing and clean under it and then use a toothbrush on the rim of the sink.

 

HERE IS WHAT I SUGGEST:
Those of you who are tidy and willing, will coach those of us who are messing and willing. Each session, we will address one problem. All the tidy people will weigh in. Messy people who have learned a good coping technique for that problem will weigh in.

Anyone can then go through the suggestions and choose the one that makes the most sense for them. I think it would be fun to say “OMG what do I do with my messy bookshelf??” and then choose from “Take everything off, dust, sort, donate, organize by size!” and “Organize by color for fun!” and “You should not even own any books you don’t need at least once a month: all they do is collect dust and you should let the library deal with them” and “Stack paperbacks horizontally, hardcovers vertically” and “Leave the bookshelves for now: there are more important areas to tackle first” and so on. Like a choose-your-own-adventure!

 

HERE IS WHERE I THINK WE SHOULD START:
If you were at the door to my house (it doesn’t have to be MY house—just ANY house where your advice was requested), what would you say was the FIRST THING that should be done? A chart? A shopping trip for supplies? A run-through with a garbage bag? A plan? Choosing a room? Setting up empty boxes? A blowtorch? First step, small or large, practical or philosophical, GO.

open door leading into entryway of house

This is one of the tidiest areas of my whole house. We’ll start slow. (Yes, that is a piece of sheet metal leaning against the wall. No, I don’t know why.)

The Necklace

I finished reading The Necklace: Thirteen Women and the Experiment that Transformed Their Lives, and do you think I will ever EVER permanently learn whether or not the word “that” is capitalized in a title? I am thinking not. (“Not ever learn,” not “not capitalized.”) It doesn’t help that I don’t even know if subtitles are supposed to be capitalized at all—or part of the book title. Hey, did you know I started college as an English major?

Anyway, I finished this book we will now call The Necklace, and that means I have already doubled my predicted success with my book stack.

The story starts with a good idea: a baker’s dozen of women decide it’s silly to spend tens of thousands of dollars on a diamond necklace they’d only wear a few times a year, so why not go in on one together and share it? This is the kind of idea that immediately makes me feel like copying. I want YOU AND ME to buy a diamond necklace and share it!!

But the book itself. Em. The author is so butt-kissy, it’s good there are plenty of photos or you’d think you could never belong to this sort of group because you were not enough of a MOVIE-STAR-GORGEOUS HARDBODY at age 60. The group photo shows thirteen perfectly normal and nice women, but the author describes each as looking like Téa Leoni, having cascading blond waves, looking twenty years younger, not having a single wrinkle, etc. It’s…weird.

And things are just as weird with the descriptions of the experiment itself. This is not just a cool idea, this is a TRANSFORMATIVE CONCEPT. It’s not just fun to share the necklace, it’s LIFE-CHANGING. It’s not interesting that the necklace-sharing led to the women developing friendships and doing some fundraising together, it’s ASTONISHING AND WORLD-ALTERING. Letting other people wear the necklace for a few minutes isn’t just letting other people wear the necklace for a few minutes, it’s SPREADING A NEW WAY TO THINK ABOUT POSSESSIONS.

Meanwhile, it sounds like a pretty miserable set-up. There is a lot of talk about how the necklace IMPROVED SEX LIVES and RESTORED SELF-ESTEEM and RAISED BAMBI’S MOTHER FROM THE DEAD, but what I mostly noticed was that no one could agree on what was supposed to be the point of the group, or of the necklace, or of sharing the necklace, nor could anyone agree what the rules should be. Furthermore, the details of why some women dropped out of the group and were replaced by others is sort of glossed over. Also, they named the necklace “Jewelia” (Julia) and refer to it as “her.” *HUGE EYE ROLL*

In the first chapter, I was thinking, “OMG WE SHOULD TOTALLY DO THIS. Okay, maybe not with a diamond necklace, but with SOMETHING!!” and by the last I was thinking, “Okay, so it’s like every other women’s group ever, but with a sparkly prop.”

If You’re Cranky and You Know It, Clap Your Hands (CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP CLAP)

Well, that didn’t really work. I’m still droopy and sullen. So I will try the opposite, and we can list the things that are making us cranky or sad or droopy or sullen or upset.

1. Sundry‘s Cat still missing after several days.

2. Mother-in-law coming in 2 months, and I’m in “Pfff, I’m not even going to TRY to clean the house” mode, which I know from experience will turn magically into “OMG WHY HAVE I NOT BEEN WORKING ON CLEANING THIS HOUSE???” mode right around the time it is too late, and then I will spend eight frantic hours cleaning one small closet to perfection while the rest of the house caves in on itself in a pit of crumbs and pet hair.

3. Sick of taking children to pool.

4. Self-delusion: “We’ll get SO MUCH DONE this summer without the school schedule interfering!”

5. Coffee NOT WORKING. Why?? OH COFFEE, WHAT HAVE I DONE TO OFFEND THEE?

6. Want baked stuff. Don’t feel like baking.

7. Whole bunch of Postcrossing postcards taking too long to get to destinations. HURRY UP.

8. Female child screaming all the time, claiming “bruvvers” (brothers) are “bahvering” (bothering) her. By existing, apparently, if the scream frequency is to be believed.

9. Male children consistently misunderstanding which part of the potty the pee is supposed to go into.

10. Just heard that fluorescent bulbs have mercury in them, and that they have to be disposed of in certain ways other than tossing them in the trash, and that if they break you’re supposed to LEAVE THE ROOM and air it out. Dude, I have broken, like, three bulbs, and then I and my five small children have continued to INHALE UN-AIRED AIR. Furthermore, I have been putting the bulbs in the trash without realizing I wasn’t supposed to. I am not actually giving up on all environmental efforts because of this setback, but it’s the kind of thing I’m mentally threatening as I mentally kick over recycling cans.

If You’re Happy and You Know It, Clap Your Hands (*crickets*)

Kitten Lovecakes, cheer me up this morning. I am droopy and cranky for no good reason. I will say some happy things, and then you will say some, and maybe this will have a dedroopifying effect. Little or big, all things happy, deposit them here.

1. I am going to see my niece again! In early September!

2. A friend sent me a care package out of the blue. By TOTAL COINCIDENCE, I’d sent HER a care package out of the blue, and it arrived at her house the same day hers arrived at mine.

3. I have all the ingredients on hand for either cookies or brownies.

4. There is plenty of coffee.

5. The mail has not yet arrived, so there is still the possibility that it will contain something fun.

6. Okay, I am running out of things. Your turn.