being a house-daughter

While i wish i had my own place again, and would love to be a house-wife (without having to be a wife), being a house-daughter is okay. (I do work 'outside the home' as they call it, too). I like doing housework. There are few things as satisfying to a concrete person as physically attacking a mess, and a few hours later, having tangible (albeit very temporary) results on view.

Today, being Friday, i didn't have an outside job to do. I did have a long list of things to do around the house, partially found below:

Vacuum remnants of Christmas tree. Even though it was a live tree, it shed needles around the little table on which it sat. I wonder if they were sympathy needles for its big brothers and sisters who felt the ax? Not that i have problems with cutting Christmas trees: they're planted for that purpose, new ones are planted to replace them, and around here, almost all of them are mulched. It's altogether a very renewable and sustainable tradition. I did enjoy the smell and seeing new growth at the end of the branches of our little live one.

Water the potted plants and herbs. In pots on the porch are a few chrysanthemums and scented geraniums, miscellaneous succulent things, and lots of miniature roses, which should be dead-headed and pruned for winter. (I like spending quality time with the roses, so i saved that for tomorrow. They don't like quality time, and attack with all thorns out--i usually look rather clawed by the end.) The sweet peas are climbing higher, and i wonder when they will bloom? A mint plant has cloned itself all over the yard and doesn't need any help surviving as the fittest, so i didn't give it any water. And last but not least, our live Christmas tree was moved outside to a partially sunny spot; it was very thirsty and drank half a gallon before water ran out the drain holes. We'll see if he survives outside until next Christmas. I give it two days before a raccoon, skunk or opossum knocks him over.

Ah, i love gardening. I missed that. I tried growing basil and mint in a pot in Cameroon. They began to sprout, and i congratulated them that evening after work. The next morning, as i stepped out the door to walk to work, a grasshopper was having breakfast! I kicked him off the balcony. A few weeks later, my plants had bravely grown back a little. As i unlocked my door, i turned to greet them as usual...a grasshopper was dining! I tried growing them on the back balcony, but they got eaten there too. There wasn't enough space for the pot inside my apartment, nor enough light, so i gave up.

Make mint julep mix. That is for Sunday evening, and it's currently steeping on the counter. Three cups of freshly crushed leaves didn't even dent the mint taking over the back yard.

Wash my car. My car is black and horribly shows dirt, so it gets a bath every week. It really needed it since this week's rain, instead of washing my car, gave it leopard spots! Must not have been a hard enough rain; either that, or the air was filthy since the last rain was some time ago and desert winds had been blowing. I usually like washing my car, but it's cold outside, the water is icy, and my damp Teva-clad toes freeze, so i'm not a happy camper.

I love my little manual transmission Jetta, especially taking the curves on Brea Canyon Road with the windows down, the sunroof open, and the cool earthy scent of the hills flowing through the car. After the original shock of getting on the freeway after two years of not driving (8 lanes, 80 miles an hour, lots of shiny un-dinged cars--i nearly got right back off at the next exit), driving has become second nature again.

Wax my car. As for waxing, i only did the roof this time. Last time was the hood, pummeled by my commute on the 91. My mother waxes her car's hood each week, but water still beaded up nicely on mine (no commute this week) so i tackled the roof. I always think i am pretty strong (for a girl) until i wax my car: "Wipe off excess with soft cloth and then buff to a shine", the directions advise. Wipe! More like exert all your elbow grease to get the excess off, and get buff yourself! My arms hurt.

Clean bathroom(s). I know most people don't get excited about cleaning bathrooms, but i'm the only one who uses one of them, so it isn't that disgusting if i do say so myself. Besides, it smells citrusy and clean, and sparkles (i like sparkly things); it doesn't take long, and ta da! Something on the list is done.

My househelper cleaned my bathroom in Cameroon; that, and went to the veggie market, and mopped the floor. I mopped it on my hands and knees over one summer, and decided avoiding that chore alone was worth a househelper. I even hate mopping in the States, where we have special floor cleaner solutions and spongy mops that wring themselves. Although i didn't have a mop, she didn't mop it on her hands and knees: she tied a rag around the broom, very clever (though the broom did look a little squashed by the end of two years). Hating mopping helped justify my middle-class American qualms about having "a servant"--although the fact that she was putting herself through school was enough of a reason to give her a job.

Make potpourri out of limes. There is a dwarf lime tree in the backyard. We put sliced limes in water. We make lime meringue pie and limeade. We give them away. They still decorate the yard like miniature tennis balls after a serving lesson. SO, i am going to cut them into half-inch slices, spray olive oil on the oven racks, and bake them at 250 for a few hours to make potpourri disks. They smell nice and look spiffy in a wooden bowl on the coffee table. And they don't sprout penicillin all over the yard.

That's about it. Lots more to do, like clean my birds' cage and pay bills and make invitations for a baby shower, and, and...odd how chores make me appreciate being home.