Smokey the Magnificent

It is dis one. (Drat. Classified just expired.)

Now we just have to…

• try to coerce some poor homestay student into staying with us
• break the news to our current landlords, who were hoping we wouldn’t need to move until nearly November
• switch over Internet
• redirect our mail
• pack up all our belongings, decluttering as needed
• buy (preferably through bartering loaves of bread or Helpdesk Man’s soul or summat, being a bit strapped for cash) a mattress, some bookshelves, a desk lamp, two desks, three chests of drawers and a drier in order to accomodate our new arrangements and the homestay student
• come up with the dosh for 3 week’s bond plus 1 week’s rent (see above and cash-strappedness)
• clean the house
• scrape paint off various windows and floors from dodgy paint jobs
• get someone in to clean the carpet to erase the presence of the snortlepig
• find someone to babysit the chickens, as Mother (who kindly agreed to adopt them if the landlord didn’t fancy the idea, which he doesn’t) is away for moving week
• empty the garage, oh my

and… am I missing anything? All before October 2.

But still. A house. Yay. Better than a dose of swine flu, I always say… with conviction and fervor these days, as it happens.

Yesterday I prepared for moving house by cleaning under the spare bed and donating a bunch of old nappies to the op shop, thus clearing out half my glory box. Today I’m planning to go through clothes and toys in an effort to donate a bunch more stuff; and, following the suggestion of a woman on MDC, start packing some non-seasonal clothes. Which is tricky given the weird weather we’ve been having lately, but I’m sure there’s something I can put in a box. My Eowyn costume, for instance.

Did you know there’s a whole hobby among movie costumers of identifying reused outfits between films? I came across some examples here; fascinating stuff. It seems the BBC is a major culprit, which is hardly surprising given how liberally they recycle their filming locations, extras and (according to horsey people I know) horses. Still, very eco of ‘em.

Yesterday I spent my first quantity of money from my points system challenge thing! Four wrought iron fleur-de-lis hooks for eleven dollars something each. I need to obtain a few more, which they didn’t have in the shop, and I’m gonna hang them in vertical rows of three in the bedroom to hang out hats, coats and bags on. Cunning, no?

In other news, meh. Life is looking a little bit moop here, folks. Helpdesk Man slid his motorbike last night coming home from swordfighting and managed to bruise his finger, rip up a brand-new pair of trou and scuff his gear up to the point of needing a new helmet and jacket. Not to mention new tyres, which he blames for the crash (thought: possibly in a several-hundred-dollar attempt to save face?). The snortlepig has developed the lurgy and is alternately lapping up her snotters with her tongue and vomiting them back up again. The latter at least I can understand, but it is trying; and the pig thinks so too. Plus, last night she was making pre-vomit gurgles while sitting with Helpdesk Man on the bed, and while holding her over the side to be sick - none too bright, as carpet is harder to divest of upchuck than a duvet - he managed to fall spectacularly on his head. And the house is a mess in a dingy bits-of-fabric-and-pattern-pieces-strewn-round-the-floor-amongst-half-chewed-bits-of-apple way. And we’re having guests tomorrow night. And I can’t figure out how to make the snortlepig’s top without having raw edges exposed to the world.

So, anyway. If you were offered - by a chap, say - a lifetime supply of turnips for only $50 - not all at once, but delivered to your house on a weekly basis, wherever you lived in the world - would you take it? Discuss. There’s no right answer, but there is a wrong one - and if you should choose it, remember that I’ll be right here, silently judging you.

Gosh, this not going on the Internet has lead me to great virtue. Yesterday I earned myself eight whole points, mostly by being solicitous to the chickens; and today I finally finished painting the sewing room with the help of my small sister. And about time, too. Tomorrow I’ll be able to clear off the kitchen table for the first time in months… although why this matters, I don’t know; it’s not like we eat off it or anything. And in a desperate effort to waste time while not going online I read a book on “eco chic” which has gotten me all riled up about sweatshops. They’re Bad, people.

In terms of my professional life (”Your wot?” Hush.), I am happy to report that I have landed my first cover story. My editor at OHbaby liked my article on communication with babies so much it’s the cover story for the next issue! I am most pleased, even if my nearest and dearest all responded with “Ooh, do you get more money?”, which I do not. I come of a mercenary breed.

Said editor also gave me the go-ahead to write a piece (for an issue due next April, if you don’t mind; no fast food business, this) on maternity clothing throughout the ages. It should be fun to research, especially given my recent interest in historical fashions; and I get to interview the Womama lady, which might be fun. She wants me to include some info on what women have historically worn during birth as well - a question to which I have never devoted as much brain power as it no doubt deserves. Nighties? Queen Victoria wore the same night-shift for all of her nine children, and then one of her daughters wore it during her birth; but other than that, I do not know. Anyway, I have until December to write it.

My bruise has matured to a more sombre and purplish hue, but is still impressive.

Right. Better go have a shower, by which I mean “stand in the bath rinsing paint trays with my foot”, and get to bed. Mainly Music starts tomorrow at 9:30, and given that I was still in bed today at 10 when the church’s most stylish mother turned up for a playdate, I had better get all the head-start I can. In my defense, Helpdesk Man was supposed to beep me this morning to wake me up: and in his defense, the internet was down. Have added “alarm clock” to my wishlist.

My family is really getting into the spirit of philosophical discourse. Dad asked me the other day if I’d rather eat four live fish or face a charging rhinoceros. I went for the rhino. Thoughts?

Virtuously domestic tasks accomplished today:

• Dropped a large number of egg cartons off at a daycare to use for crafting or research.
• Dropped a large number of plastic bags off at a hospice op shop, as per the politely-worded sign.
• Vacuumed.
• Vacuumed up a sock.
• Fixed vacuum cleaner (woot!)
• Baked mandarin cake.
• Baked excitingly-shaped cheese straws.
• Cleaned microwave (hoo boy!)
• Cleaned stove
• Took snortlepig for walk, incidentally meeting and socialising with in-laws in the park. No bad thing, as it is psychologically boosting to run into in-laws while romping around picturesquely beneath tree, as opposed to answering door blearily in ill-fitting pyjama pants uttering lame and transparent lies about having had a late start that morning.
• Cooked roast chicken with Helpdesk Man for Bnonn and Smokey Night.

Less domestically virtuously:

• Read entire funny mom blog that spanned 2 1/2 years
• Read 8 pages of Cake Wrecks
• Googled tips on learning to ice-skate
• YouTubed tips on learning to ice-skate
• YouTubed clips of Torvill and Dean
• YouTubed John Denver
• Wikied John Denver
• Wikied Roswell UFO incident
• Wikied alien autopsies
• Wikied Coraline
• Googled appropriate eras for Gibson Girl hair styles and Anne of Green Gables
• Googled Hamlet’s “What a piece of work is man” speech
• Read with intense interest approx. 45 pages of threads on Mothering.com discussing issues entirely irrelevant to self, such as dealing with the food allergies of an eight-year-old or the machinations of a toxic ex-spouse
• Read Empire review of newest Harry Potter film, which interests me very little

I think I’ve revised the points system to a usable format. To wit:

Tasks Worth 1 Point

• Take snortlepig for a walk
• Give chickens fresh water and food
• Vacuum
• Have dinner ready before Helpdesk Man gets home (main dish, that is, not veggies; we eat late)
• Complete Bible study homework before 5PM on Wednesday
• Try out a new recipe
• Empty compost bin
• Post article on Suite

Tasks Worth 2 Points

• Clean out chickens’ cage
• Take snortlepig to Mainly Music
• Get toy from toy library
• Change sheets and pillowcases
• Mop

Tasks Worth 3 Points

• Run errands in town
• Plant veggies/flowers in garden
• Have guests over for dinner

Tasks Worth 20 Points

• Write and have published a print article

Other One-Off Tasks with Values As Specified

• Finish sister-in-law’s quilt - 10 points
• Finish snortlepig’’s mini-quilt - 8 points
• Mow entire lawn - 6 points (not really one-off, but sporadic)
• Make snortlepig’s felted jacket - 3 points
• Make snortlepig’s winter hat - 2 points
• Make snortlepig’s green winter top - 3 points
• Make jeans gardening apron - 3 points
• Finish painting sewing room - 4 points
• Sand and paint sewing room windowsills - 10 points

As for the bribes,  I had the brilliant idea last night of simply calculating it at one point per dollar. Duh. Not including shipping, though, because that’s confusing and I don’t feel like it. And it’s my blog. Yah boo sucks.

So anyway, starting from today my grand total is 5. Yay! Those being posting a Suite article (on Victory Rolls, which are my new favourite hairdo), feeding and watering the chickens, taking the pig for a walk and taking her to Mainly Music.

The latter was surprisingly pleasant. I’ve been putting it off for yonks but I accidentally woke up in time today and felt I should get it over with - largely because the snortlepig has started moshing and dancing jigs every time she hears music. Of course, as soon as we got there the selfsame pig thrust out her lower lip and scowled for the duration, declining either to wiggle like a worm or clap, clap, clap her hands. I couldn’t really blame her; the songs were no Billy Joel.

Afterwards, though, she cheered up, aided by a handful of crackers and a sippy cup. They had a sippy cup for each child with just a little water in the bottom - I was in awe at the brilliance of this. The poor kid even got to try a bite of banana, a substance I rarely allow at home because the smell gives me the perishing feebles.

Also, there was a kid called Edge. Edgy, no?

After it was over I decided to carry on down the road to see if the op shop had a brown woollen extra-large sweater I could felt down for the snortlepig’s coat. It didn’t, but I did run into a girl who enthused about my crown braid and asked me all sorts of questions about growing her hair long. I was waxing lyrical about biotin when I realised this was all an elaborate preamble to selling me a copy of The Baghavad Gita As It Is. Hmph.

Also, in a radical executive manoeuvre I have decided to christen this Gratuitous Pig Shot Week.

Well, minions, I feel it is time to shake things up. This afternoon in a listy mood I devised a cunning stratagem to keep me on the baking-apple-pies-in-a-ruffly apron side of the tracks. (Having led a sheltered life, I’m not entirely sure what goes on on the other side of the tracks. Scarification? Hash beef Wellington? Power-padded shoulder suits?) I have decided to bribe myself.

Basically, I’m gonna use my Suite101 earnings to buy nice things for myself and the house; but given that many of the items I like aren’t strictly frugal, I’m going to use them as a reward for being clean and virtuous. With points. For example, small domestic tasks such as giving the snortlepig a bath, taking her for a walk or changing the pillowcases are worth one point. (So is “eating a piece of fruit”, which might be seen by some as a copout, but given that from one season to the next scarcely an apple touches my lips, I thought it was worth an entry. I don’t like to brag, but the future of the human race would probably have been a good deal brighter if I had been the one kicking about with Adam.)

Slightly more complex, time-consuming or unpleasant tasks, such as cleaning out the chickens’ cage or taking the baby to music class, get me two points. Running errands in town and planting veggies in the veggie garden (to which I have a strong weather-related aversion) get me three; and so on. I have assigned various values to several one-off tasks I need completed, such as finishing various sewing projects and painting the house; and have further decided that the successful sale of a print article is worth an entire 20 points.

Then, of course, I have to assign values to the things I want. I’m not quite sure how I’m going to go about that; probably intuitively rather than mathematically. I was thinking the Dieselpunk bodice I want might come in at about thirty, whereas something really marvellous like this ought to be worth, ooh, a hundred and fifty? Difficult to say. It has to be hard enough that I have time to actually acquire the funds via Suite, otherwise the whole bribery thing is a bit moot.

And not everything will be quite as frivolous as steampunk corsets, I hasten to add. Mostly I’ll be using it to buy fabric, I suspect, for my ever-growing list of Quilts  I Want to Make. And a hat rack.

Helpdesk Man, as usual, treats this scheme with tolerant amusement, telling me that I can buy myself dieselpunk bodices whenever I please without having to assuage my guilt by cleaning out chicken cages. He is a pleasing sort of husband to have; which is all the more reason to clean out the chickens, innit.

For me, cleaning the house is 99% inspiration and 1% perspiration; it’s all about the mental rather than the physical oomph.  My mind usually being on Higher Things (such as the perplexing question “Would you accept a million dollars if it meant that once every week for the rest of your life at a random time you would throw up with only thirty seconds’ warning?”), it is unlikely ever to occur to me that the doorframes need wiping down or the valance needs waxing, or… you know… whatever it is housewives do.

But just last week I lit upon a stratagem so brilliant I’m considering approaching the publishers of The Secret and marketing it as a sequel.  What you do is take a microfiber cloth, the kind that works wet or dry and can wipe up an entire powdered elephant without flinching.  You clean something with it until it is good and smeggy, then toss it in the machine.  When you next do a load of laundry and are hanging up the wet clothes, you come across the now-pristine and usefully damp microfiber cloth and think “Aha!”  So instead of hanging it up to dry, you wander round the house with it until you find a surface that needs cleaning and clean it, pausing not nor blenching until the cloth is once more in a state of disarray.  Then you simply toss it back into the enpty washing machine, where it awaits the next load.

The good thing about this is that microfiber cloths can be used on a whole range of surfaces that are easy to forget about cleaning, such as mirrors and windows and windowsills and… well, in my house, everything really.  The first time I did this I got all excited and wiped off half the house, starting with cleanish surfaces and moving to more atrocious ones. I’ve been doing it for three weeks now, and my ceilings have never been less fly-specked.

Try it.  It’ll make your house a good 3% cleaner, I guarantee… and when your husband comes home from work and says “What did you do today?” you can beam at him with the smugness of a Stepford wife and say “I wiped the skirting board in the bathroom“.  And he’ll be like “Uh, k” and then cautiously congratulate you, eyes flicking round nervously as if he is afraid you will go for his neck.  And that is a Good Thing.