Whistle While You Work

Clump #212: Clear and clean kitchen island and sink; elevate mood.

I felt like a Disney princess this morning.  And not in a good way.


I imagined Cinderella and Snow White cheerfully cleaning up other peoples’ messes.  How did they manage that singing-with-the-birds spirit?  The closest I came was thinking ‘This is for the birds.’


Actually, the Disney character I most resembled (just in attitude, I hope!) was Grumpy.


Here’s a glance at the kitchen island before, with one of my favorite books in the foreground:


I won’t identify those who might have played the roles of dwarves/evil stepmother/sisters, but a baking project had been taken on that was so big, it depleted energy and time needed for the cleanup.  And now they had gone back to the salt mines (or was it coal?).


Here’s the “after,” our imitation granite (the secret is out!) formica, all shined up.  Notice the darkness outside; it took a long time, what with all the grumping.


Kitchen sink before:


(I think it might be bad feng shui to have a dead bug, legs-up, inside a wishbone.  Jimminy Cricket!)


And the much-better after:


With the center of our house’s universe clear, and my mood restored, I read a moving article in The New York Times called What The Sparrows Told Me, by Trish O’Kane.  Ms. Kane wrote, “I tell [my students] that the birds are a gift to get them through the day.”

Maybe those princesses were on to something!

Old Bags

Clump #25:  Recycle plastic bags.

I’ve got to use our reusable bags more often.  I do need plastic ones for garbage and kitty litter-box cleaning, but this is ridiculous.  I recently read that people are getting food-borne illnesses from unwashed reusable shopping bags.  So, O.K., use them more often and wash them more often.


I was driving the bags to the grocery store’s recycling containers and realized they were about the size of a person … like a houseguest who had long worn out his welcome.  “Thank you, Bye Bye!  This is where you get out.”


The subject of old bags makes me think of the time my husband and I were in Disney World for our younger daughter’s high school choir trip. It was our last chaperoning job for our kids (empty-nest pang).  One morning we were entering the park, and, as usual, I was the one with the tote bag requiring a security search; my husband was free to go straight through the turnstile, unencumbered.

The words “Old Bag” were never actually uttered, but something about the smile and gleam in his eye when he pointed to where the “bags” had to go made the point clearly.  At that moment, a Disney employee said to me, “You can come over here, Princess.”  (No wonder they’re called Cast Members. They’re fluent in fiction.)  I said, “Ha!  This man called me Princess, while you were thinking Old Bag!”  I saw this mug in a gift shop, and enjoy the memory each time I use it.


I’m reminded that both age and Princess-hood are states of mind.