I got good news from the Filth-O-Meter. I cannot link, since xanga hates me, but you can visit them by cutting and pasting this:
I learned about this from Creating Text(iles), who likes this British TV show. At their website, you can take a quiz called the “Filth-O-Meter,” which is such a good name for a quiz.
They told me that my home is an oasis and I have a sparkling personality, which is an ambitious conclusion to draw from the fact that I clean things before they begin to smell.
However, it did cheer me up a bit in the face of the rising tide of mess that is one of the many signs of summer.
You may not feel that you need any signs of summer. After all, we have had Midsummer Night already, and there is all that sunshine and sweat and people keep heading off on vacation and everything, so the existence of summer is pretty well established.
But summer for me is a continuum. There are the early signs, which are all nice things like fresh vegetables and the return of my college kid and fireflies. Then there are the signs of midsummer, like horrible messes and no food on hand at home, and Bordette and whininess at work.
You may not be familiar with Bordette. It is the support hose and hair net of classroom decorations, stuff so outmoded and dull that it does not even count as retro. The Princess ordered it this year, so she did her best by bringing in teal (think diner linoleum) and magenta (plastic frames of cats-eye glasses, maybe). And I did my best by arranging it in edgy color groupings, like teal with red and brown, and violet with apple green and sky blue. People do not buy Bordette during the rest of the year, but at back-to-school, there is an odd compulsion to buy the stuff. Like buying Spam because a snowstorm is predicted, maybe. I wouldn’t buy either of those things, myself, but it must comfort some folks.
And then comes High Summer, which is characterized by sauna-like days and nights, bugs, and Stage Three Shoppers.
But we are not there quite yet. It is still midsummer, and I am fighting a valiant rear-guard action against the advancing tide of mess and filth.
Well, maybe not filth. It is more like towels on the floor (Why? Why? There are towel bars right there at hand!) and dishes on all available surfaces throughout the house, and random detritus on top of the piano. Sigh.
As for the TV show, I have never seen it, because it is not shown here. Also, it is a reality show, and I generally dislike those. But it causes me to question my general belief in the superiority of British TV. Apparently, it is a program in which two ladies go into strangers’ houses and point out all the dirt. Then someone cleans it, and they point out the cleanliness. Doesn’t really sound all that amusing, does it?
I am reading One for the Money by Janet Evanovich, the first Stephanie Plum novel. Stephanie Plum is quite tough, and a rotten housekeeper. She is in desperate straits, and yet maintains a witty if not exactly cheerful outloook, so she has my sympathy. The book mentions Kathleen Turner as a good choice to play her in a movie, but I would update that to Sandra Bullock (have I got the name right? The one in Miss Congeniality).
The thing that I have in common with Stephanie Plum in summertime is the hope that the Refrigerator Fairy will have replenished the stores overnight. Not, you understand, that my refrigerator contains moldy bread and beer and ancient take-out food. But you will, on summer mornings, often find me searching through the refrigerator or freezer in hopes of finding overlooked items that could be meals.
My score on the Filth-O-Meter will tell you that my food storage areas are not so higgledy-piggledy that I am really likely to emerge from them saying, “Ah! There’s that chicken, whole-wheat pasta, zucchini, and sorbet I thought I had somewhere!” And yet I still look.
I had better go forage for breakfast foods. Here is my personal mess, by the way. You can see #2 daughter’s tie skirt, and that is the corrected quilt there pretending to be a chair cover. I guess I have no room to talk…
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