Having Gotten some Stuff Done around the house is high on my list of everyday joys. It should be noted that I don’t say ‘getting some stuff done’–that, to be fair, would be slightly disingenuous, as I’m lazy enough at heart that I prefer the finished product to the process much of the time. Not always; I can get off of my haunches and get active, it’s just a rarer occurrence than that I’m pleased to perch on them surveying my handiwork as an end in and of itself. So I’ll just show off a few of those chores and projects that have given me that sort of pleasure, and perhaps inspire you as well: after all, some of the enjoyment, as you’ll see, comes from the knowledge that each of these items succeeds in making my daily work simpler, and thus, my laziness more tenable. Which, not to be too tautological about the whole thing, is the point of the Doing in the first place.
Putting latches on closet doors that, no matter how they’re hung or how the hinges get adjusted, refuse to stay fully closed. I apologize to the poltergeists whose chief form of entertainment this may have curtailed, but not so much that I am going to remove said latches.
‘Customizing’ the laundry room on the cheap. I’m the sort that teeters between an out-of-sight = out-of-mind mentality, generally, and liking my tidiness too, and since like many homes mine’s most frequently entered through the laundry room (the garage entrance lies there), I can’t abide a junked-up laundry space. So I have over-the-door hooks for quick hanging and access when it comes to day backpacks and *nearly* dry laundry, wall hooks for baseball caps when it’s time to dash out in the blast of sunlight, a wire shelf cut to fit on top of the two opposing door jambs so I can put my laundry basket out of the way but in reach, and my favorite new tweak, replacing the hall door that used to overlap the garage entrance one when they were both open (every time we left or entered the house) and was wont to grab my fingers and scrunch them nearly every time they met. The new door is a bi-fold, and so sits neatly out of reach of that garage exit door and unable to do its dirty deeds any more. I was seriously cheap on this one and bought a closet door that’s unfinished on the laundry room side (plain Masonite), but when I paint it I am planning to use some blackboard paint I have around, and I figure we can use it as a coming-home message and reminder board after that.
While I think it’s nice to have a bookshelf with an assortment of books and magazines in the guest room, ready for any visitor, I know too that many of our guests are en route elsewhere when they stay here, so I like to keep a shelf of it filled with books, magazines and pamphlets about any of the sites, sights and adventures available in this region, in case they’d like to plan further while here. If they happen to open a box with a little sweet treat in it while rummaging, that can’t hurt much either, can it?
Having illogically arranged spaces tends to make me *un*happy. So after a couple of years of being piqued that the cupboard door over the kitchen peninsula, which happens to be the one closest to the kitchen table, open the wrong direction–thereby making the cupboard unreachable and useless–I decided it might be time to cash in on the open shelving trend. Now my drinking glasses are reachable both from the sink and from the table, and are in visible proximity to the tea-and-coffee mugs hung simply on the end of the cabinet. Much easier all ’round.
One of my pet peeves in a kitchen is not being able to find towels for hands or dishes when I need them. But I don’t like having them hanging where they can be schmutzed or pulled down accidentally by any passing person or pet, nor do I appreciate when they block drawers, doors, oven windows and the like from their normal uses. So I took advantage of the sides of the cabinets flanking my kitchen sink window and put up hooks for towels that I think are reasonably identifiable for their respective uses on either side–the hand towel over the side of the sink usually used for hand-washing and the dish towel over the side where the drying rack lives perpetually on the counter. Yes, I am gifted with enormous work spaces in this kitchen and can spare the room for air drying dishes. That, of course, makes my lazy soul happy too.
I’d be lying if I said that having the thermometer outside the kitchen window makes me *happy*, exactly, since it usually tells me nothing more than that It’s Boiling Hot Out There. But forewarning or at least a reminder that the great outdoors might not be as splendidly inviting as it appears here is valuable, at that.
Admittedly, a dish towel hook may not seem like such an impressive possession, but if the one thing it simplifies in my life makes me more willing to actually *do* the dishes, that’s worth something, isn’t it. Having a pleasant view out the window there doesn’t hurt either, even if it’s always a work in progress itself.
My stack of well-worn flour sack dish towels is evidence that doing dishes is not anathema in my kitchen. The wholly holey character of a few of them, I’ll admit, is not dish-related but due to their also making perfect straining cloth for fresh cheeses and home-brewed broths and ideal for drying all sorts of leafy greens and fruit and veg as well. Many trips through the bleach load take their toll, no matter how kindly I try to treat the cloths otherwise.
Replacing what has given its all for many years of intensive use is a source of happiness, too. While it may make interesting textures and patterns and colors, a pot whose nonstick surface has finally converted to everything-sticks status and whose base has warped into a minimal-contact bowl that teeters on the cooktop is facing retirement as soon as I can get my hands on a choice replacement.
On the other hand, being able to refresh the old geezer items with new life is worthwhile and can be fulfilling in its own way as well. A lamp with wiring that has officially hit the half-century mark is probably best not turned back on until I rewire it. The one I have on my work table just now may prove to be an intriguing enough project that I’ll share it with you–when I disassembled it I discovered it was made from a commemorative Jim Beam decanter. Oh, the little things that can bring me happiness. Hmmm. Suddenly I’m inexplicably thirsty. Wonder if there’s any whiskey around.
Joy has a funny way of residing in our hearts: it’s never completely untouched by sorrow or the knowledge of trials and struggles. It requires a measure of trouble, in fact, for joy to exist. How else can we begin to know and appreciate the depth and breadth of true joy?
Art-Colored Glasses 