fufaraw

I have had Ravel's Bolero in my head for the last few days, with flashes of ombre lavender to purple Torvill and Dean gliding past my mind's eye.

We watched Moana (it's a thing. Lilo the evening before. Spirited Away is prob up next. Avoiding live action, avoiding new horror-vore-shock-grimdark tv. Sticking with comfort food movies. We may start Fraggle Rock rewatch next) night before last, and I keep getting "Shiny! Dah de do de do de do" because I never learnt the lyrics.

So in my head now it's "Dum da da da da, dum de dum da da da da--Shiny!--Dah! DAH DE DAH DAH De Dum Da De Da, Da de dum de dah de dum da de da, de da-de dum de dum dum de dum--SHINY!--De dum De Dum de dum da-de dum da da de dum de.... shiny!...

I just dumped all the wastebaskets into the kitchen trash and bagged it up, cleared the garbage out of the freezer*, retrieved the trap I heard go last night, plus wee mousie corpse, and got one of the smaller bags OH keeps for freezer and other garbage and bagged that, too, and...ew. The bags are scented. Whhuff. I hauled it all down to the dumpster, came back, washed my hands and made lunch, sat down to eat and every time I lifted hand to mouth...what's that weird smell?

Oh. Trash bag scent. I've washed my hands three times now, and it won't go away. I'ma have to make some cheap instant coffee to soak my hands in, briefly, or break out the vanilla extract. Ew, ew, ew. Why do things have to have such awful artificial scents? Air "fresheners", dryer sheets, laundry detergents, sanitary pads? trash bags?


*What do you mean you don't freeze your garbage? We don't have a local composting place that's not miles away, and our HOA frowns on household composters. Our disposal is wonky, and we actually shop pretty responsibly and don't have a lot of organic waste, so we put a bread bag in the freezer and throw garbage in there until it's full, then take it out. No smelly in the house.

ETA: Just to clarify, we recycle plastic, glass, aluminum, and cardboard. What constitutes "trash" is non-recyclable paper and plastics, metal things like staples, bits of wire and string, etc. Food-related organics like vegetable and fruit peels, cores, eggshells, meat scraps and bones constitute "garbage," and we try to shop responsibly so there's little of this type of food waste to deal with. Forgotten lab experiments from the fridge are also garbage, occasionally with their container. Also, apple peelings and cores are "garbage," because left alone they decompose. Orange peels go in the trash because they dry out, get less messy as they do so, and give off a pleasant scent.

A discussion elsewhere of fidget toys reminded me I have fidget jewelry. These two pieces, primarily.































The ring is usually worn on my thumb or forefinger. The locket is on a nearly waist-length chain. At least I manage to hang onto these--I tend to lose the fidget toys.

I should figure out a way to crawl out of bed every morning, throw ibu and tylenol down my neck and stumble back to bed to sleep until the alarm goes off. Waking up is so much easier and more cheerful when I'm drugged.

Unfortunately the Puritan in me resists drugs of all sorts, even OTC pain meds, until things are dire. Stupid,  life's better when unearned pain can be avoided.

Let's just call a spade a garden implement, okay? I am no domestic goddess, by any estimation. I dislike work of any sort, housework included. Oh yes, I can scrub a bathroom with the best of them, wield a swiffer like a samauri warrior, and tweak tchotchkes on a shelf half-inch left, no, right and back diagonally, no, left and further back... for an entire afternoon. Once started, you know, it's hard for me to quit. Starting is hard.

One of the things that whips my chicken about cleaning, is that you have all these neat *tools* for specific jobs--this little brush that reaches the crevices of the whatnot, and the wandy-thingy for reaching up high, and the special cloth for furniture polishing, or silver polishing, or brass or copper...don't mix up the cloths. Toothbrushes work for a lot of things. The vacuum has a beater bar that does a decent job on the rugs. All well and good. So you do the job, right? You get it all sparkling clean and now you can move on to something else. Like a bubble bath, or a coffee or tea on the deck with a book, all virtuous-like, basking in your accomplishment.

Except, you can't. Because, even though you did the job you set out to do, you got the thing clean, now you have to clean the tool that you cleaned the thing with. And who makes the tool to clean the tools you use to clean the things? I sit down by the trashcan and upend the vacuum cleaner with the body of it clamped between my thighs and go at the bristles of the beater bar with scissors and a chopstick, cutting and pulling out the hair that snarled around the bar. I take the wandy thingy I use to sweep the cobwebs off the ceiling fan and around the ceiling corners outside and try to discreetly beat it against the house wall to dislodge a lot of the dirt before I sit down and use a comb to get the rest of the yutz out of it, then go back inside and put it away, and then wash the comb. And then clean the sink and clean out the strainer in the drain. I pull the full bag out of the trash can and take it to the dumpster--then come back in and wash the lid and the outside of the trashcan. And then wash out the cloth I used to wash the trashcan.

It never ends! I mean...I see no end point. I think I want a steam cleaner unit, just suck the filth off everything with it, and then dump the nasty water and wash and dry it and the attachments and put it all away until the next time the house is dirty enough to catch my attention.

I swear, it's always something.