Home Work

Laundry Room at The Bunny Bungalow

The only thing I hate worse than cleaning house is a dirty house. I am such a procrastinator! So today is the day.

As you may know from a previous post, I do not have a maid. I have tried hiring my own maid and several maid services. Each experience always felt like nagging teenagers to clean their rooms. The fact is, no one cleans a house like it's their own or, OMG, maybe they do. No one prepared or studied for a career in house cleaning. Except me!

The truth is, once I jump into it, I love cleaning house, doing the laundry and ironing. I have studied house work as an art. I've got books and articles I've collected. I cruise the aisles of the supermarket, perusing the labels on the latest household products. In high school, I was a member and president of the Future Homemakers of America (FHA)*. Yes, the effing FHA!

Now where's my new mop bucket? I think I see it over there, under that pile of dirty designer towels!

*Striving toward PCness, in 1999 the FHA became "Family, Career and Community Leaders of America" (FCCLA). Now isn't that catchy!? This name change was an attempt to "resonate with today's and tomorrow's teens." And who's cleaning their rooms?

Linen Therapy

Antique, French Linen Napkins from Em's Heart

Linen napkins are such an attainable luxury. Years ago Tall Son, when he was short son, humiliated me at a luncheon: "Look, Mommy, we all have dishtowels!" He was referring to the elegant linen napkins with which the hostess had set her table. It was then that I realized, as did every adult around the table, the kid had never seen a real napkin. After that, there would be no more paper towels or crummy paper napkins at our house.

I began collecting linens as though I were a mad woman. "But they have to be laundered and ironed," you whine. "Duh!" I answer. This is where the therapy comes in.

There is an insightful scene in a Cheech and Chong movie. Cheech is waiting for a date to arrive at his house, however, she stands him up. He handles the disappointment by grabbing his iron and ironing baskets of laundered things.

Take it from me, this is an effective way to face life's heartbreaks. For example, husband number two, whom I now refer to as S.H. (you go figure), was late arriving home one night. I grabbed my iron and a basket of linen napkins and began ironing. Through all that steam and dozens of napkins later, life became clear. It was obvious that husband number two was cheating, not working late as he claimed and as I wanted to believe, but cheating. My course of action was also clear. So when S.H. waltzed in at 2:00 A.M., saw the stacks of napkins and asked, "How's it going, Cheech?" he was out on the street pronto, doors locked behind him, papers from my lawyer in the morning.

So you see, if it weren't for linen napkins, I may never have met Tall Husband.