Mold--BeGone!

I am always willing to humiliate myself in order to bring you another new cleaning thingee. I am, if nothing else, a collector of cleaning thingees. Utensils, swabs, potions--whatever, I'm always up for trying them in my neverending search for the cleaning thingee that requires as little help from me as possible. The humiliation part comes in because I am scrupulous about showing you before pictures. And from them you can see how unscrupulous I am about cleaning. I've written about this before. It is what it is. Amen and whatever.

My latest cleaning thingee that promises nirvana is X-14 Mold & Mildew Stain Remover. When MomCentral sent out a call for people willing to try it, I raised my hand and waved it in their faces (virtually, that is). Several weeks later, some nice man delivered a box to my door and inside was said X-14. What particularly attracted me were the works Works WITHOUT Scrubbing. Well, glory be and praise the lord if that is so.

If I still lived in LA, I would have emptied the bottle in no time, such was the mold and mildew with which I suffered. But here in Elk Grove, the air is just a tad drier--and the house is like 80 years newer--so the mold situation isn't that awful. But it still, my cleaning proclivities being what they are, exists.
This is exhibit A, a corner of my shower stall, in all its glorious moldiness.

And this is exhibit B: The same corner, post application of X-14 Mold & Mildew Stain Remover.
I'm not sure what accounts for the difference in color--lighting, maybe--but I can assure you that all I did was spray and rinse. My lily white hands didn't have to do anything more strenuous than squeeze the nozzle on the bottle. It truly does Work WITHOUT Scrubbing!

Next I'm going to take it out in the back yard where my redwood furniture is quite sad and in need of not only de-molding and mildewing, but painting as well. According to the instructions, X-14 Mold & Mildew Stain Remover is "excellent" as a deck wash or painting prep cleaner. Its magic ingredient is "sodium hypochlorite at a level generally 60 percent higher than similar products on the market...(and it's) activated by pH adjustments.

Whatever that may mean.

Another Account of Cleaning Woes and Wonders

I do not have to tell you again that I will do anything to avoid cleaning. Do I? Do I? No, I thought not. So when I tell you that I have found something that helps me achieve that end, you must believe me. But if you don't, I'm humble enough to offer photographic evidence. To wit, Exhibit One: my stove top in its natural state
Am I embarrassed at the schmutz (not to mention spaghetti sauce) that sullies this fine stove? Clearly I am not the woman who wipes up after every spill--or even every day. Yes, I'm embarrassed, but I'm shaming myself for your benefit. Normally in such a state, I would soak the racks in soapy water and scrub the hell out of the cooktop with my bare hands.

But not this time. This time I, thanks to MomCentral, had in hand Green Works Wipes. They are natural, biodegradable cleaning wipes, all of which sounds good, but frankly, I've found the natural stuff in the cleaning department to be a little less than efficacious, if you know what I mean. So I questioned the power of these wipes to do the heavy duty job my housekeeping requires. And now I offer Exhibit Two:The rag at the bottom of the frame is the single Green Works cleaning wipe that I used. To clean the entire stovetop. All four burners. And the racks.

T'was a miracle, I tell you. I didn't even work up a sweat...or grease my elbow. I merely wiped and the schmutz (and spaghetti sauce) came off, as is evident in Exhibit Three:

Do I recommend these? You bet I do.

Where oh where has my allergy medicine gone?

...Drixoral is suddenly and without any warning Missing From The Drugstore Shelves. I have taken Drixoral for oh--mumble, mumble--years now. Every since the nice little allergy doctor scratched the skin on my back and told me I was allergic to household dust and mold.

Back in those days, Drixoral was on Prescription Only. Then it moved to the OverTheCounter section. Then it got very popular with the Cooking Crank crowd. Then it got moved to behind the pharmacist's counter and I had to proffer and sign several documents to get my monthly dose (Ritalin was much easier to obtain--go figure). Then suddenly, apropos of nothing, it was gone. And no one knew why.

Since then I have been suffering with my odd assortment of allergy symptoms: itchy eyes, such that I'm rubbing my eyelashes into oblivion. Itchy throat, such that I am forever trying to scratch it with my tongue, a maneuver that is more attractive (and less effective) than you can imagine. Hideous fits of incessant sneezing.

So when I learned from MomCentral that there was a new allergy spray on the market, I said Yes, indeedy, send it over. It came FedEx, which you know makes me feel important and like I'm getting a wonderful present. And I tried it toute suite, which means right away (although my genders may be off because all those details to learn in French? Just too much pour moi).

It's called anywhere, because it's an anti-allergen fabric spray that you can put on anything. I elected to spray my pillows and my bed, or at least that part of it closest to my nose. As I sprayed my feather (yes, I know!) pillows, I thought out you damn dust mites; begone you household mold. At first I was a little concerned because anywhere is made by Clorox and eau de bleach was quite apparent when the fabric was first sprayed. But it dried with no odor and I took to my bed that night anticipating the first allergy-free sleep since Drixoral disappeared.

Which is exactly what I enjoyed.

But--there's always a but, isn't there?--anywhere cannot take the place of my beloved Drixoral, since I would have to spray my entire house and all therein, regularly, and constantly, and zealously. But--here's the good but--for those of you who have localized issues with allergies, dog and cat beds and the like, I do think anywhere can be the exactly right product in the exactly right place at exactly the right time.

Carpet Cleaners and me, ByJane

As anyone who has ever lived with me can tell you, I'm not much for the cleaning of floors. When one roommate complained about it (I believe there were some aspersions made about my femininity), I told him that I simply had trained myself to not look below my ankles. This is true.

It is also true that when I had to select floor coverings for my brand-new, now worth(much)less house, I selected some surface that resembles the stone of ancient Jerusalem. Not that I've ever been there to actually see it, but I was at the Getty Museum in LA shortly before I made my flooring choice and I believe their sliced-deep-from-the-earth-stoneware is what influenced me. I had that tile or whatever it is put into almost every room in the house. It is an excellent floorcovering, able to go whole months without seeing the swipe of a Swiffer.

But then there are the bedrooms and office. They alone are carpeted, because the builder convinced me that no one could possibly want faux stone floors in their bedrooms. I did, but I caved, and thus these rooms are covered now in a mewling, puking beige carpet. It did not take long for said carpet to become stained with mewl and puke, among other things. I offer for your appraisal the following evidence:

This is the result of Molly throwing up in my office. I cleaned it with some carpet cleaner when it happened, but Molly's puke is mighty.

This is the result of an unfortunate accident with Bare Minerals Blush in "Lovely". It too has been the beneficiary of a carpet cleaner.

And this, I'm not sure what this is. I think maybe I stepped on a grape...several times, over several days.

I was resigned to my stains until recently when I was given the opportunity by MomCentral.com to Try A New Product. The FedEx man brought a box in which there was a quantity of blue excelsior, making me feel like I was getting a present,and underneath that, I unearthed this

Spot Shot is, according to the promo material that came with it, a New! NON-TOXIC Instant Stain & Odor Eliminator. Yeah, right. They sent it with a little carpet cleaning kit; that's it in the foreground. Swab on some of their bottled chocolate sauce, spray on Spot Shot, blot and voila! Chocolate stain a mere memory. Yeah, right again. Of course it worked; they set the stage and provided the props. But on my stains? My been-there-god-knows-how-long stains? My already-been-given-the-carpet-stain-remover-treatment stains? I don't think so.

But this stuff is made by WD-40 and they've already desqueaked all my doors, so I felt I must give it a try. Here are the results:

The Molly Puke

The Bare Minerals Blush

The squished grape.

This stuff works. In fact, it's obvious I need to clean the whole carpet with it, not just the individual stains. But that, alas, would be too much work for one who has trained herself to not look below her ankles. Still, I can give it a heartfelt recommendation. For those of you are green and zealous about your carpets--and I know you're out there; some of you have even been my best friends--Spot Shot is non-toxic, certified biodegradable and safe for use around child and pets. I give it the ByJane No-Housekeeping Seal of Approval.

How I Keep My House Clean, byJane

Simple answer: I don't particularly. I am not one of those women who is deeply houseproud (much to the chagrin of a former SO of mine who thought this was a sure sign of my degredation). I was not raised by a mother who fostered family cleaning events, such as my friend G, whose entire family devoted Saturday mornings to cleaning the house. Typically, my mother devoted some portion of her budget to paying a cleaning woman to devote one day to cleaning our house. I don't know what the going rate was but I do know that it included carfare and lunch. I didn't pay much attention, I must confess. Consequently, not only did I never really learn the how-tos of cleaning, I didn't learn how to manage those who cleaned for you. That, added to the fact that my sense of justice and fair play is such that I cannot ask someone to do for me what I won't do for myself, means that on the odd occasions when I have had a cleaning woman, I have generally hovered tying her shoelaces and make sure she was sufficiently hydrated.

This comes to mind today because I have just spent as little time possible getting ready for a meeting at my house. I have shut all the doors to every room except the guest bathroom. I have Swiffled, in a manner of speaking, the visible parts of the floor. I have cleaned off all tables, etc. by transferring the Stuff on them to my desk--and closing the office door.

I am ready for company, in a manner of speaking, and I dare anyone to judge me. Please don't.

You Will Not Be Surprised...

...if I tell you that I spent no little time today pulling out all the cards and envelopes from the trash. I just couldn't go through with it, dear and gentle reader. Perfectly good cards, which I shall now add to my stash awaiting the day of Sitting Down To Create Collage.

Cleaning Out My Parents Desk

Now, isn't that a fascinating headline? They say--you know They, the SEO people--that one's blog titles are crucial, critical and direly important to what kind of traffic one gets. So you can see, what with the creativity that's just burbling out of me, why my blog traffic is so, so, so-so.

However, I couldn't think of any jazzier way to announce what I have spent the day doing. Yes, absolutely. Cleaning out my parents' desk. It's a lovely desk, mahogany, with a drop down writing surface,
and multiple cubbies as well as several small drawers in the top. And three drawers in the bottom. It has, for as long as I can remember, been the repository for the flotsam and jetsam of my parents' life. Once my mother died and bequeathed the flotsam and jetsam to me, I just kept it as it was, allowing it to grow a bit with my own stuff--dead cell phones and the like--shoved into the top drawer. But I've long known that one day I would have to deal with My Parents' Desk, and I've known as well that it would be difficult. None of us--my father, my mother, nor I--liked to throw things out. My mother was, in the early years, probably better at it than my dad and I. But once he died, she seemed to inherit all of his pack rat traits and then some. Thus, the Macy's receipts and Screen Actors' Guild cards from the 90s. Thus, it is left to me to make the hard decisions about what to toss.

That carton you see contains but one, the smallest, drawer and the top cubbies of the desk. It is, you will note, half full. What I threw most easily were my mother's bills and receipts, circa 1998. A twinge or two at tossing all of the Lee C. Gassner address labels, but none for the all the dessicated ballpoints, souvenirs of CPAs and insurance companies and, of course, now-defunct motel chains. I did experience some feelings of guilt at getting rid of stacks of perfectly good, albeit dreadfully dull greeting cards that my mothers gathered from somewhere or other. These are not of the Hallmark genre; think more along the lines of Birds of the World and Flowers of Fall. And with them went the handsful of perfectly good envelopes. It was hard to throw them as I know my father is flipping in his grave at the sheer wantonness of my waste. But if I did what my every instinct is telling me--put them in a box to keep and use some day--then they would become my flotsam and jetsam, and I have no daughter to will them to.

The Things I Did Not Throw (and yes, the allusion to The Things They Carried is intentional):

• the collection of perfectly good, not-been-cancelled stamps that my father maintained through the years. Not that he collected stamps, but for the actual postage, you know. I'm sure I'll use them. It would be a sin not to, a waste of perfectly good money. Of course, I do wonder if there's a statute of limitations on postage. I know we now have Forever Stamps, but will the 5cent Washingtons and the 3cent Liberty's fly as well?
  
• their passports, each in its own leather case, initial-stamped in gold--HG...LCG. I don't know why I'm keeping them. They just seem too good, too fresh to throw out. But still...
  
• medical reports, because that's now the only record my sister and I will have, and we may need it some day
• a letter from my first husband, to my parents, written after I left him, in which he told them how much he loved them--and me.
  

Tomorrow I'll go through the other two drawers.....

My Saturday, An Essay - by Jane

My Saturday contained all the excitement and romance that one could possibly want.

First, there has been the on-going debate over at BlogHer about some guy's book suggesting that the answer to the problems in the Middle East was to ship all the Jews somewhere else . Said "conversation" (ahem!) actually started last night and of course I was in the middle of it from time to time which not only put me to bed all roiled up, but rooted me out earlier than usual this morning. And that, in turn, required that I put myself back to bed for another hour or so after I had checked to make sure that the world was still turning.

Said nap resulted in my being eh eh eh, so I hied myself to the darkened living room to watch a movie IN THE AFTERNOON !! There was a time when I would cheerily spend my Saturdays cleaning and tidying my little abode. That time seems to be over. But the romance, oh yes, the romance was: I watched Message in A Bottle. That is the name of the film with Kevin Costner and Paul Newman playing father and son to Robin Wright Penn's good gal, Teresa. I had not read the book because you know, la de dah, I have all that education in literature and so I only like romances written by dead white women. I suspected it was a tear jerker--all that soft focus is a dead giveaway--and I figured I might as well go for it. The love story didn't really get me going because--well, it just didn't. I got all weepy at the end, but then my life in the current and not so current moment lends itself to that. Still, I made myself feel better by imagining that Robin and Paul consoled each other over Kevin's death. Certainly I would rather have the former than the latter. But that's just me.

Must I go on? Must I tell you that I did a quick turn into the drive-through at Jack in the Box. And then I hied to the drug store where I entertained myself by browsing in the cosmetics department. Okay, MIDLIFEBLOGGER ALERT: I got something called Bio-Oil, a South African product which contains the "breakthrough ingredient PurCellin Oil" and promises to "help smooth and tone aging, sagging and wrinkled skin on both the face and the body." All these breakthroughs and promises I could definitely use, and I'll report back as soon as I have something to say.

And then, and then, and then!! I watched reruns of Law & Order SVU and began the long process of filing and clipping that will culminate tomorrow in a painting of the toenails. O joyous Sunday--one can hardly wait.

Life Goes On...

...but sometimes I feel like I'm just hanging on the edges, the periphery if you will, that tiny bit of real estate where when the wind blows--whoo! whoo!

Today for the first time in absolutely ages, I felt like cleaning. I took that as a good sign, that once again I wanted to fully inhabit my world. The floors are what needed attending to. The rug in the living room still sheds like a llama in heat, and there are pale green tumbleweeds hanging out all over. That calls for the Ironman of vacuums, so I dragged out the Electrolux, circa 1972, that the Soon2BX thoughtfully left behind. It took me all fucking day to vacuum my little piece of real estate, and I'm just talking about the living areas. Is this normal? You people who vacuum regularly, should it take that long? Should I have to keep changing instruments, and changing outlets, and changing the angle of the head thing so it is pointed down at the floor and not up at the ceiling? This can't be right.

I was so frustrated after humping that Electrolux that I desperately needed retail therapy. So I went to Long's and spent an hour or so wandering up and down the aisles, seeing what was new and what I absolutely had to have. I bought a new eyebrow pencil and a new eyeliner pencil. I'll probably use them each at least three times before I throw them in the back of the drawer where I throw all my makeup. I got them because I'm going to try to not go out to see the world without at least a dash of eyeliner and a splat of mascara. There are some people who get up, get showered, do makeup and hair, and don a nice outfit that matches before they start their day. I'm not one of them. When I get up, I throw on whatever I was wearing last, and sort of comb my hair (I always brush my teeth, however, and put sunscreen on, thank you very much). It's my I'm not going out today look, but lots of times, you know, I go out. Which does not make me performance art of the sort that anyone would care to see. Tough shit.

This evening I put some books on Half.com. I have got to get rid of this library I've been toting around forever. So I'm selling books. I'm sure there is some nifty widget that I can put on my blog that will take you to my Ebay site, but damned if I know what it is at this time of night. Maybe tomorrow.