"When choosing colors for dirty areas, including mudrooms, try green... 'If you’re a heavy Amazon shopper and get all those [brown] Amazon boxes, green looks really good with brown.'"

I'm reading "The secret to an orderly home? 'Dirty zones.' Laundry areas, small cabinets, baskets and even hooks are the 'first line of defense' against messes creeping into the whole house" (WaPo).

RIP Beth.

It’s a sad day at Grassley household…. For my 34 years and 15 yrs before that at my mother in law’s home Beth has worked dependably….

— Chuck Grassley (@ChuckGrassley) August 8, 2026

The London Times tells us: "Grassley is not the first member of Congress to develop a strong attachment to a piece of machinery. John Boehner, a former Speaker of the House, appears frequently with his lawn mower. The senator John Kennedy has a cross trainer in his garage that he has named Margaret, 'after Margaret Thatcher because both kick butt.' His wife, Becky, 'won’t let me bring Margaret in the house,' he said, in a video posted this year. So he uses Margaret in his garage and then lifts weights, watched over, metaphorically speaking, by his Iron Lady companion."

It's just by chance — and consistent blogging methodology — that Margaret Thatcher came up twice today. The earlier post is about her plan to send coca-eating moths to Peru. 

Are you reading all these instructions about assiduously overwashing fruits and vegetables and thinking, I'll just indulge my longterm desire not to eat fruits and vegetables?

I'm reading things like this: "Can washing produce help prevent cyclosporiasis? What experts recommend. The way you prepare produce may make a difference in your risk for the 'diarrhea parasite' that’s going around" (WaPo).

And I'm about to give up on fresh produce. I walk into Whole Foods, and the first experience is, of course, the very grand array of fruits and vegetables, but the news media has demanded that I see invisible filth permeating everything. If you knew there was cyclosporiasis — we can't just say "cyclosporiasis," because it's too hard a word, none of us idiots can be trusted to learn it, so we always need to hear the atrocious word "diarrhea" — if you knew there was cyclosporiasis on a vegetable or fruit you wouldn't even touch it. The issue of bringing it home and washing it to death wouldn't arise. But we are expected to view the entire array of fruits and vegetables as innocent enough to buy in the hope of eating but suspicious enough to plan to subject to some elaborate treatment.

From the article:

"You left them to pack their suitcase and they brought three pairs of pants.... 'Choose your battles...' Forgetting pants isn’t catastrophic."

"Tell your teens, 'It’s my holiday too, and the things that will make it feel like a holiday for me are not having to hassle you all the time, being able to read my book on the sun lounger, and not being the dogsbody doing all the work.'"

I'm reading The London Times — "How to have a holiday with your teenager — without arguments/Sun, sea… and sulking? Teens can test your patience when you go away. The psychologist Dr Beth Mosley gives her advice" — so I need to be on the lookout for Britishism. 

Sometimes they're not so obvious. I was all, what's wrong with 3 pairs of pants? Too many pants — right? — so maybe there aren't enough shirts? But, no, "forgetting pants isn’t catastrophic"? How has the kid forgotten pants if he brought 3 pairs of pants? How long is this vacation? Oh, I get it...  pants. When they say "pants," they mean underpants.

"Dogsbody" you can see is something they must say that we don't say, but "pants" flew under the radar.

"I'll have got used to being a dog's body," wrote T. E. Lawrence in 1922.

The new chore is the pre-chore chore of making chores seem fun.

I'm reading the WaPo article titled "The secret to making chores so fun that you look forward to them/Strategies such as a points system, timed challenges and even 'the poop rule' can lend some excitement to mundane tasks such as decluttering or mopping the floor" (gift link).

 

And the secret to making headlines so fun you have to clip is to include bait like "the poop rule." But I will go in there to save you from the temptation and give you more time for brainwashing yourself into the enjoyment of chores that, if done, will actually benefit you. 

"The poop rule" is: "When decluttering, ask yourself, 'If this item was covered in poop, would I still keep it?'"

That's a little harsh. I prefer the rule: If your friend were decluttering and wanted to deaccession this item, would you add it to your collection of stuff?

Anyway... I made that a gift link so the pay wall wouldn't factor into your experience of temptation to click. Otherwise it's sour grapes: I couldn't get past the paywall anyway. No, you can get it, but can you resist? There might be a useful tip or 2. 

"5 things society makes a big deal about that don't have to be that important" and "21 more things I love about being single and living alone."

It might be dangerous — especially for the young — to consume these 2 lists in sequence. It might be what "they" don't want you to know.... 

ADDED: These are Tiktok videos and I'm having trouble embedding them. So: the first one is here and the second one is here.

"So, buy books at an estate sale, remove the dust jackets, then organize by color? Fire the podcaster and rehire your book reviewers."

Says a commenter at the WaPo article "The multiuse home space trend is coming for your dining room/A DIY dining library can create the perfect space for reading, crafting, work or dining with friends. Here’s how to get one."

The article is verbiage about putting bookshelves in the dining room. The author is Jolie Kerr. Was she a podcaster? I look it up. Wikipedia says:

Jolie Kerr (born 1976) is an American writer and podcast host. Her book, My Boyfriend Barfed in My Handbag... and Other Things You Can't Ask Martha, was a New York Times best-seller.... Writing for The New York Times, Dwight Garner called My Boyfriend Barfed 'the Lorrie Moore short story, or the Tina Fey memoir, of cleaning tutorials...[a] wise and funny new book.' At NPR Linda Holmes praised Kerr as 'at her most irresistible when she's handling the kinds of awkward questions that do traditionally go unanswered in your women's magazines and your perky home-maintenance shows.... Kerr now hosts a podcast... called Ask A Clean Person.

I can see why WaPo wants a writer like that, but this books-in-the-dining room thing is pretty ridiculous, and it is upsetting that WaPo canned the book review.

"Mr. Clean was first devised in the mid-1950s, when Procter & Gamble commissioned a commercial artist, Richard Black, to create a marketing character..."

"... for a new detergent-based household cleaner. The company envisioned a bald man with a nose ring, a nod to the genie-like powers of a product that cleaned 'like magic.' Mr. Black, who died in 2014, drafted two sketches of a strong, smiling genie: one with a nose ring, and one with an earring. Procter & Gamble chose the second one...."

From "Mr. Clean, the Bald, Broad-Shouldered Cleaning Mascot, Retires The character became the face of a household cleaner in 1958. It’s not clear what the brand plans for its next mascot" (NYT).

At Straight Dope, there's skepticism: "Its a marketing ploy to draw attention to a brand that has been taken for granted. He will come out of retirement"/"Yeah, like when Mr. Peanut 'died' a few years ago."

A retrospective:

 

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"I’ve come to lean on the daily mechanics of the kitchen for much-needed meditation, and on my kitchen meditation — if it can be called that — for the energy to cook...."

"It’s exactly what makes daily cooking so demanding — the volatility of the materials, metal pans that conduct frighteningly high heat, the perishability of vegetables and meat and milk — that shapes it into such good material for noticing.... Find a time when the sun is low and, without self-censure, take an inquisitive inventory of the flotsam beneath your kitchen table. Mine is an elaborate collage. There are two kinds of beans.... There’s a chunk of sourdough bread. There’s a chink off a chestnut, a piece of apple core, some leaves, a coil of thin white thread. Beneath my table is a topographic model of my family’s life, painted in golden light: the beans and leaves and string that we’ve shelled and tracked in and with which we’ve sewed. It looks, suddenly, too sweet to alter, too poignant to sweep up. Who dropped the bread and decided, absorbed in conversation, to leave it there?"

Writes Tamar Adler, in "My Antidote to Early Evening Despair" (NYT), which is adapted from her book "Feast on Your Life: Kitchen Meditations for Every Day" (commission earned).

I liked that romanticizing of detritus. And the notion of kitchen meditation is a good counterbalance to the TikTok trend of de-normalizing cooking:

"In 2011 the museum had problems with a 4-14m installation called Peanut Butter Platform by Wim T Schippers."

"Unsuspecting visitors stepped in the thick layer of peanut butter smeared on the gallery floor at least three times. They were given a clean-up bill."

From "Child damages €50m Rothko in ‘unguarded moment’ at museum/The abstract painting will undergo restoration works after it was scratched at the Boijmans Van Beuningen museum in Rotterdam" (London Times).

If the peanut butter people had to pay for peanut butter "clean-up," does that mean the parents will pay for the restoration needed after this "number of visible scratches in the unvarnished paint layer... caused by a child who scratched the underside of the work in an unguarded moment"?

"Scratched the underside"... I'm trying to picture that. I'm guessing the child did not scratch the front surface or the back of the painting, but the bottom edge of what was an unframed painting.

I ask Grok: "Did Rothko leave paintings unframed and paint the edges (the part 90° from the surface plane)?"

Answer: "Yes, Mark Rothko often left his paintings unframed and painted the edges of the canvas (the sides at 90° from the surface). He typically wrapped the paint around the edges to create a seamless, immersive experience, emphasizing the painting as an object rather than a framed window. This approach complemented his large-scale, abstract works, where the edges were integral to the viewer's encounter with the color fields. However, practices varied slightly depending on the piece and period, with some works later framed for exhibition or preservation purposes."

Perhaps the child was fascinated by the seamless, immersive experience and became a tad too immersed.

AND: Astoundingly, Rothko painted a peanut butter sandwich!

"Women are actually adult human beings with agency and freedom of choice. They could choose, like men..."

"... to spend less time on cleaning and household chores, and more time on exercise. They are free to do that if they want to. They could say 'no' to some, or many, of those other people, including family members, who make demands on their time. They are free adults who can choose what to do. 'Women are oppressed victims of patriarchy' isn't actually the only possible lens with which to view gender issues, although one would never know that from reading the New York Times."

Writes someone in Tribeca named Macaulay, commenting over at the NYT article "Even Exercise Has a Gender Gap/Women have less time to work out than men. And their health pays the price."

The article begins with an anecdote about a woman trying to use her elliptical machine and getting interrupted, first by her husband telling her that their daughter wants her to come say goodnight and then by her son who had the non-problem of needing "help finding something to do." The woman responds to both interruptions by getting off the machine.

"We’re not judging you for the soap that you use. But, collectively, that can add up as billions of people wash their hands or bathe..."

"... hundreds or thousands of times a year. If you’re so inclined, it makes sense to switch to a more eco-friendly product. Just understand that there may be a trade-off between sustainability and comfort. 'The consumer has to decide: Are they serious about where their soap comes from, whether it’s synthetic or natural?...'"

From "Bar soap or body wash: Which is best for your skin and the planet? Depending on its ingredients and packaging, your soap could cut as much as a third of the carbon emissions from your next shower" (WaPo).

So: Don't feel judged, but feel judged. "We’re not judging you"... but you — you conscientious people — need to step up and judge yourself.

That reminds me. I'm reading a book — "Morning After the Revolution" by Nellie Bowles (commission earned) — and here's how the chapter "The Most Important White Woman in the World" begins:

"If you break it down, there’s actually so many steps that are involved with showering...."

"A single shower might include undressing, turning on the water, lathering, hair-washing, shaving, rinsing, drying off and choosing what to wear. For someone without depression... moving through those steps might feel seamless, like watching a flip book animation in which the transitions are nearly invisible. But for someone with depression, the same process may feel like flipping one page at a time, with each additional step making the undertaking seem increasingly daunting.... The subsequent inability to shower can reinforce the belief that you can’t do anything right.... That can cause a feedback loop where poor hygiene actually exacerbates the underlying symptoms that prevented the shower in the first place."

From "Why Is It So Hard to Shower When I’m Depressed? Issues with hygiene are common symptoms of depression. Here’s why, and how to make bathing a little easier" (NYT).

"He stuck his finger in the mouth to see if he might wiggle the piece loose. 'And my finger came back wet,' he said."

"'I thought about it for a half-second longer and said, "Oh my God, my finger is wet,"' he recalled. 'I got my flashlight out and shined it in there, and the thing is completely full of liquid,' he said. He summoned colleagues. They were stunned. Here was 'an out-of-the-box, next level, spectacular find,' said Jason Boroughs, Mount Vernon’s principal archaeologist.... 'There are whole, recognizable cherries,' said Boroughs. 'It actually smelled like cherry blossoms when we got to the bottom.'"

From "Centuries-old bottles of cherries unearthed at George Washington’s home/The two, rare intact bottles, about 250 years old, were discovered by archaeologists working in the Mount Vernon basement" (WaPo).

I would have thought they'd have cleaned out the basement by now. This is a feel-good story on so many levels.

This American streetscape is a mood test.

Photographed from an F-150 at 8:21 yesterday, in Terre Haute, Indiana.

It may express delight or despair. I won't impose the photographer's intent on you.

"Born in 1943 to a New York family of tactile pragmatists (her father helped invent the X-Acto knife), Glück, a preternaturally self-competitive child..."

"... was constantly trying to whittle away at her own perceived shortcomings. When she was a teenager, she developed anorexia — that pulverizing, paradoxical battle with both helplessness and self-control — and dropped to 75 pounds at 16. The disorder prevented her from completing a college degree. Many of the poems Glück wrote in her early 20s flog her own obsessions with, and failures in, control and exactitude. Her narrators are habitués of a kind of limitless wanting; her language, a study in ruthless austerity. (A piano-wire-taut line tucked in her 1968 debut, 'Firstborn': 'Today my meatman turns his trained knife/On veal, your favorite. I pay with my life.') In her late 20s, Glück grew frustrated with writing and was prepared to renounce it entirely...."

From the NYT's annual roundup of short essays about people who died in the past year — "The Lives They Led" — I've chosen a bit of Amy X. Wang's essay on the Nobel Prize-winning poet Louise Glück.

I loved the X-Acto/exactitude theme — the whittling away, the meatman and his trained knife, and the potential to end up with nothing.

ADDED: I wondered if — in 20 years of blogging — I had ever before used the word "exactitude." It's a great word, and I thought, perhaps I'd never used it. But I see I've used it twice, both times in 2018.

"We love what we take care of, and we take care of what we love. Instead of groaning at the task of treating my cast-iron skillet..."

"... I now treat it as a fulfilling act of service; I know that my time seasoning it with salt and oil will affect its life span and the palate of future generations. I scrub away at the hand-me-down dinnerware from my father-in-law, and I’m connected to him. In an unexpected way, pride has seeped into my kitchen work. Cleanliness is a matter of principle.... Carl Jung once said, 'Modern man can’t see god because he doesn’t look low enough.' Will you find God in your kitchen sink?"

Writes Tyler Shane, in "You don’t need to meditate. Just wash your dishes by hand" (WaPo).

A sense of profundity attaches to one of my cast-iron pans — the one that I grew up hearing called the "spider." It is, I believe, older than I am. I use it all the time and can't imagine what one might do to it that would make it need any more seasoning. Is that low enough?

"I solved this very simple with my kids. Clean up or the toys go in jail. I swept everything in a black garbage bag..."

"... taped the top up with masking tap[e], and put a date on it with one week out. If you don't want to lose your toys for a week, clean up your mess kids!"

A comment on the NY Post article, "My husband didn’t do any chores while I worked 10-hour days so I’m getting a divorce."

Coaster found inside 1961 copy of "Tropic of Cancer."

I was just rearranging my bookshelves, mostly planning to trash decrepit mass-market paperbacks, but I'll keep this. It was, undoubtedly, bought by my parents and read — perhaps only up to page 163 — and then migrated to my house after my parents were both [word in the upper right hand corner, above].

Headstone cleaner?!

We're repainting the rooms in the 100-year-old part of our house, and — instead of, once again, painting around the brass hardware on the windows and in the closets — for the first time, these various pieces got removed. Every time the trim had been repainted, the painter had slopped some paint onto the metal, and each painter, it seems, felt as though they were only following the paint-slopping tradition. On the window handles, I myself had recently chosen to close up the gaps and paint the entire surface.

But all those hooks in the coat closet looked like a lot of trouble to paint around, and we got the idea to unscrew everything. Was this going to involve paint stripper? No! I looked it up on the internet, and it turns out what you need is a crockpot. So we did unscrew all the window and closet hardware — 30 items, plus over 100 screws — and cook them overnight in water and Dawn detergent.