The Home Office
Love and money are the two motivators for this week’s project.
For a while now, I’ve been uncomfortable with how often the projects I’ve been tackling have benefited me directly and/or indirectly. The work I have done to date has been about making my life easier, which is the main benefit to working towards an intentional home. Today I tackled the home office, also known as the studio in the backyard. I never go out there except to use the fax or pick up something from the printer, especially now that we moved the three bookcases inside. The Mister, on the other hand, spends several hours out there every night.
If you ever wonder how I have the time to blog, it’s because my nights are usually my own after the boys are in bed. My little workaholic spends his evenings working, working, working. In a cesspool.
Here’s what happened.
Last October, during my William Morris marathon, I tackled the books in the office. They haven’t moved since because I didn’t know whether to sell them, donate them, or ship them off to Amazon. (I’m still not sure how the Amazon program works.) Then we moved the bookcases, which required me to empty the bookcases completely.
So maybe I just started chucking things onto the floor after touching over 500 books in one afternoon. Even though the Mister couldn’t see the books on the floor over by my old desk, it bothered me to think of him working for hours in such a cluttered environment. I avoid going out there at all costs, and that’s knowing I don’t need to spend more than a minute or two in the mess.
That’s my explanation for the piles and piles of books.
I have no explanation for his area, other than my once neat-as-a-pin husband has turned into the absent-minded professor with an aversion to filing. That heinous frame (and the picture of me, which isn’t bad) has to be 15 years old. Good gravy.
More importantly, those three pictures are what he sees when he sits in his chair to work. Piles of books in front, and a cluttered printing station at his back. That can’t be good Feng Shui.
I knew without him telling me that working there was stressful (how could it not be!) and I knew the prospect of cleaning out from under the mess seemed overwhelming (been there). So, because I love him and think he deserves a nice, healthy place to work (too much), I cleaned it all up for him as a surprise.
Feeling smug.
Also, feeling sore. I had to sweep the floors, then vacuum them, then wash them twice. Blargh.
The Mister was beside himself when he got home. I’ve got points banked for months! In fact, I’m pretty sure if I asked him to take me to the mall on Sunday he would say yes and then offer to carry my purse.
Earlier I said love and money motivated this project. It’s no accident this week is more about sweat equity versus cold, hard cash. Last week’s project tapped our wells, and I don’t like giving the impression that making an intentional home requires an open wallet. Clean desktops are free.
Organizing the office was as simple as categorizing the books and then storing them in file boxes. We’ll open the boxes and let people go to town when we have our garage sale. The rest will go into the donation pile or Amazon, if I ever figure out the consignment program and whether it’s worth the effort.
We’re close, but not done. Not by a long shot. The drawers and cabinets desperately need to be cleaned out, and three weeks ago we had a cable problem. The repairman’s solution was to drill a hole in our wall when I wasn’t there–and in direct violation of our agreed upon plan–and run a cord through the front of our credenza, which is why the door won’t shut. Sigh. That will need to be addressed, as will the 293893853 feet of device cords hiding behind the partially closed doors.
Progress, not perfection.
- Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
- Your post must relate to your efforts to create an intentional home. I have a delete button, and I’m not afraid to use it.
- No links to giveaways, please.
- Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.
The Home Library
In January I detailed the projects I wanted to tackle with The William Morris Project. I had this to say about the family room:
Family Room: A cozy, embracing room where bodies sink into stuffed sofas and chairs to read books and watch movies. The lighting is plentiful, flattering, and comfort reigns over form.
I had a laundry list of requirements, but the most pressing to me was changing the color of the walls and finding storage for our books. I couldn’t tolerate that sickly green-yellow one more minute and I had books stored in every room and on every surface. Two weeks ago our fish tank developed a slow leak. We bought a new tank but decided to paint the wall behind it before putting it in place to avoid painting around it when we eventually repainted the family room. (Moving a full tank can damage the structural integrity and create slow leaks. Learned that the hard way.) Painting that wall the same calm, soothing gray of the living and dining was all the inspiration we needed to finish the room…sort of.
Finishing the room…sort of…is what we did at IKEA on Sunday, and why I have been so quiet (frazzled! short tempered!) this week. I was trying to have everything spick and span and pretty for today, but there was just too much to do. I still think it looks fantastic, though, which is why ugly rooms are so convenient. They make half-done rooms shine.
A few before pictures for those longing to feel the impact of cat urine walls and sharpie-colored sofas.
These aren’t entirely current–we move furniture around often–but close enough. Also, those pictures don’t really communicate the air of “social security office” we had going on. You’ll just have to use your imagination.
Here is how it looks now.
We bought a white ektorp sectional. I did many months of research on it, read numerous glowing reviews, and liked the idea of rotating slipcovers in more luxurious fabrics from companies like Comfort Works. We planned on a sofa and love seat, maybe in mixed styles, but there wasn’t enough room once we finally bit the bullet and fixed that book storage problem.
What’s that? Did someone say home library?
I came {this} close to making our dining room a library in our first home, but I chickened out. I was too worried about what the neighbors would think, which twelve years later sounds extraordinarily stupid.
We pushed the sectional about 3.5 feet from the wall, took three Billy bookcases we had in our office in the backyard, brought them inside, and added two more. In January we decided to save up for built-in bookcases on that wall. This is our test run to see if we would like it. We like it.
We like it from every angle.
We have been saving up for a china/curio cabinet for some time now, but I can now display many of my most treasured possessions, some holding nothing more than sentimental value, on shelves with my other most treasured possessions. We save money and I get to be surrounded by everything I love like a little pack-rat. Win-win.
Here is a shot of our little hallway. It’s about 2 feet. The dogs like to hang out back there.
There is room for one more bookcase. We held off to cushion our budget and because my desk will make the bottom shelves somewhat inaccessible. If we don’t buy another bookcase, I will hang photographs or art in its place. We are also saving up for the glass doors to help with dust control.
The area above my desk remains a clean slate. I’m debating how to decorate the wall, though even if I had a concrete plan it would have remained unrealized this week. Purging and organizing the books (all in alphabetical order, by subject) took me close to 9 hours. All told, I touched over 500 books on Tuesday. There are more in the office, but those I’m selling or donating.
A few months ago on Twitter someone mentioned they bought a Kindle because they had way too many books. “Like, 50, guys. Not even kidding!” I laughed.
There is still plenty left to do, despite the tens of hours I put into the family room this week. We need window treatments, toss cushions, overhead lighting, a little of everything on the fish tank wall (Exhibit A), and we haven’t even painted the TV wall (Exhibit B). Let’s not talk about how the rest of the house looks (Exhibit C).
Still, having said that, this room already feels like us. The boys are over the moon in love with “the library.” I’m so pleased with how everything is coming together. And let me tell you, it’s not often this perfectionist is gentle enough with herself to acknowledge her efforts didn’t turn out half bad.
- Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
- Your post must relate to your efforts to create an intentional home. I have a delete button, and I’m not afraid to use it.
- No links to giveaways, please.
- Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.
The Plates
While it is true I regularly use the party plates my mom pressured me into buying, I still buy paper plates on rare occasions. For example, this past Christmas most of the Mister’s family came to visit. His dad and one sister plus husband, to be specific. I have to be specific because that brings the total body count to twelve, and one night we were hosting his brother/wife, sister/husband, us and the boys and we don’t have enough plates what are we going to do?!
What are we going to do?!?!
You know how you have people coming over and something happens that falls outside your expectations for the night (like having more people than plates) and suddenly every rational braincell you’ve ever possessed sticks to the steam shooting out your ears and leaves you with synapses that can only shoot blanks?
That happened.
I ran out before everyone came over and bought super cheap, plain paper plates and plastic utensils and used them to eat molten polenta with chicken and sauce. The heat went through the plates and marked the table.
In my panic over People v. Plates, I forgot the 40-50 plates we already owned. This sounds silly, forgetting that you own enough plates to open a small restaurant, but it’s true. I completely forgot their existence.
And that’s because they sure as heck weren’t in the cupboard. They were with my mom, neatly stacked in her cabinets, waiting for the moment I could fit more than a monofilament in mine without causing a ceramic avalanche.
As I was writing yesterday’s post, I truly and with all sincerity, said to myself, “I wish I could store our party plates at home. It would be so convenient.”
Oh, honey.
You could try storing the two serving bowls you forgot you had with the other serving bowls. You could donate the baby plates and bowls you never use. You could move the teas you never drink to the beverage cabinet. (Maybe then you’ll remember to detox your kidneys with peaches and dandelions?) Then you can wipe everything down, put things back, and see if you have enough room to store your precious party plates.
Well what do you know. Will wonders never cease?
- Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
- Your post must relate to your efforts to create an intentional home. I have a delete button, and I’m not afraid to use it.
- No links to giveaways, please.
- Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.
Mom Car
Two weeks ago during Mikey’s spring break we pulled into the Stater Bros. parking lot to buy…I can’t remember. I can’t remember because as I gathered up my purse and phone Mikey called out, “Mom, look! There’s Father Paul!” And my head shot up, surprised, because seeing your priest in a supermarket parking lot is something that doesn’t compute. I know priests do things like eat and sleep and use the bathroom. They even have cars, which they use to drive. All of this I know logically, but somehow seeing Father Paul dart in between cars in an old Letterman jacket and sneakers was on par with bumping into a centaur in the produce department.
So Mikey called Father Paul over, and it pleased me to see how happy he was to see Mikey. I watched him for a second squeeze between two cars when it hit me. My car was a disaster. A total Mom Car.
No. Nonononononono!
“Okay, Mikey! Out of the car! Let’s go! Hurry up. Hurryuphurryuphurryup.” I tried to sound sing-songy and chirpy, casual even, but the overall effect was shrill. The mountain of toys, clothing, and baseball gear did nothing to speed up Mikey’s exit, so to my great dismay Father Paul approached our car and–in slow motion, surely it was in slow motion–opened Mikey’s door to help him out.
Out came Mikey, stumbling over a Hot Wheels, followed by a trail of detritus rivaled only by the trash vortex of the North Pacific.
Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. My car is as dirty as my soul.
It’s a slippery slope, these mom cars. You toss snacks into the back seat for them to eat between school and baseball practice. I let them bring a toy (I said just one!) when I rush them out of the house to run errands. They bring home paperwork and leave it on the seat next to their jacket on top of their glasses. They get thirsty and hungry and cold and hot and bored. And I, I just get apathetic. Sometimes forgetful. Who knows. All I know is that the back seat and trunk of my car had three jackets, four hats, three sweaters, two blankets, four baseball bats, two baseball bags, five baseball gloves, two books, twenty hot wheels, some Star Wars heads and action figures, two chairs, a watch, a missile, and a sword.
Oh, and some coloring pages and potting soil. A first aid kit. I used to have jumper cables, but who knows where those went. They’re probably in the same spot I left my dignity.
In the front seat, which I admit doesn’t always look like this, were 12 or so books to return to the library, receipts, and a magic 8 ball. That magic 8 ball saw a lot of use the last couple of weeks.
The next day I went to WalMart for car organizing supply “things,” because if there is ever a place one should go to for a boost in self esteem, it’s WalMart. You can’t walk out of there without feeling at least a little smug. A little dirty, too, but everyone knows sanctimony becomes before squalor in the dictionary.
I bought a version of these back seat pockets and this trunk box. Then I spent an hour cleaning out the truck. After that, I took the truck to the car wash for an express detail. I didn’t have that special polish to clean the plastic panels that are fading from the sun, nor did I have the high powered vacuum to suck up all the dust and dirt from baseball season. (I tried using my household vacuum with little success.) Also, most important of all, I completely lacked the motivation or desire to clamber around my truck like a tree monkey with a soapy sponge.
After paying someone to do all the hard work, I set about organizing the truck.
I have been meaning to buy backseat organizers for 8 years now. Finally did it. Yay me? Given the 2,920-day delay, I really wanted to love them, but I don’t. They’re okay, I guess. I would have liked something a little less janky, but these are the only pockets my WalMart carried, and I’m still mad at Target. I’m not much of an online shopper.
The trunk organizer is a different story. That one is well constructed and quite handy.
Two weeks later, and the car is still as clean as the day I had it detailed. I’m shocked! Not bad for an 8 year old truck with 84,000 miles. I thought for sure the boys would bring back in the vortex, but so far they seem as eager as I am to keep the truck clean. Of course, Mom Stink Eye might be motivating them a wee bit more than the glory of an uncluttered floor, but I can’t be bothered by such trivial details.
- Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
- Your post must relate to your efforts to create an intentional home. I have a delete button, and I’m not afraid to use it.
- No links to giveaways, please.
- Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.
How to Organize a Bottom Freezer
Short answer: No clue.
When the Mister and I were first married, stainless steel refrigerators were just coming into style. Appliances like stoves and ovens, I think, were still white. If they came in stainless steel, they were probably expensive and definitely not included in our new, builder basic 1100 square foot home. We bought a white side-by-side refrigerator, a Kenmore, and for the life of me I can’t remember what we did with it when we moved. We might have given it to a friend.
When we moved to this house, our standard size refrigerator dwarfed the room. We had to buy something counter depth if we planned to use the kitchen for activities like cooking, standing, and opening cabinets. I was thrilled. By God, this time I was going to have a fancy food cooler right off the runway, or where ever it is they reveal newly designed appliances. We bought a stainless steel French door/armoire refrigerator, which we now affectionately refer to as “that thing that blows.”
“Worst decision ever” for short. I’m sure many of you have a similar refrigerator, and I am sure many of you adore your bottom freezer. You’re crazy. Kidding! (AM I?)
Armoire refrigerators look nice. Theoretically, you have more room up top to store large trays of food. It’s nice to have all your food at eye level and if you have a narrow kitchen, like me, the small doors are a must. That said, this fridge gives me the fits.
- The left door never closes. You have to firmly shut the door; swinging it closed isn’t enough. We had to set the alarm to alert us when the door is open after we woke up to a thawed refrigerator one morning. None of the other refrigerators I’ve owned have come with doors alarms. Why? Because the doors shut.
- Although the width up top is nice, the counter depth never allows me to store much. I feel like I am always shifting things around to get a good fit.
- In order to see anything in the fridge or access the food, I have to open both doors. That wouldn’t be a problem if one of the doors shut properly.
- The freezer. My God, the freezer.
The bottom drawer is too deep to remain tidy.
The top drawer? The top drawer isn’t a top drawer. It’s a large basket (with an ice maker) that sits on two ledges. You slide the basket (and ice) along the ledges. No tracks, no rails. Just ledges. It doesn’t take a physicist to realize what will happen to the contents of a large, heavy basket allowed to slide on plastic ledges. The basket swings left or right depending on the hand you use. The contents get jostled. Ice always falls to the floor. Always. It’s a pain. So much so, we never slide the basket out. We just blindly pull out or push in food and ice as we need it. Hence, that mess above.
Which ended up on my counter for a super fast 30-minute purge. That’s the good thing about cleaning the freezer. Once you start, it’s not like you can get sidetracked. You’re working under a time constraint. Which brings me, in a round about way, to what I hate most about bottom freezers.
The gunk that collects at the bottom. Note the ice from the sliding basket.
Yes, all freezers collect gunk at the bottom, even side-by-sides. But with side-by-sides, you need only remove the bottom basket to clean it out.
To clean out a bottom freezer–at least mine–you have to take it apart. That’s exactly what I want to do on a rainy Wednesday. #Sarcasm.
I used a broom to sweep out most of the gunk, which I picked up with a dust pan and tossed. Then I scrubbed down the interior and wiped down the top basket.
I wiped down the bottom basket and door, too. As you can see from the condensation forming, I was quickly running out of time. Luckily, I purged all the food first because putting the refrigerator back together almost killed me. Not physically, but I swear it almost broke me mentally. It was just like putting a drawer back in your dresser, only the drawer is twice as wide, three times as tall, and five times as heavy. Getting both sides on the track = total bear. But I did it!
I put all the fruits, vegetables, and random tub of unopened Cool Whip I do not for the life of me know why I own (must have bought it for a recipe?) in the top basket.
On the left bottom basket I have most of my flour. I have another large bag in a refrigerator in the garage. On the right I keep rice and meats, which I admit look meager. I will also keep chicken carcases there, which I save after roasting and then turn into stock.
Many people buy additional baskets to store foods inside their freezers, but I didn’t do that for a couple of reasons. One, I didn’t want to spend the money. Two, my freezer baskets have sloping sides, so if I bought straight-sided baskets I would not be utilizing all the available space.
I know some of you must be wondering what type of refrigerator I would like. Not the side-by-side. I can’t get anything to fit in those, either. This is going to sound crazy, but I really like the good ol’ fashioned top-freezer models. Of course, Smegs are pretty. But even the basic jobs you get at Sears are great, if you ask me. I have one in the garage, and I get so much use from it. The top freezer is much easier to organize and the fridge cabinet itself is cavernous. I feel like I could store a body in there and still have room for pickles. Something the neighbor with the loud music and even louder dog would be wise to consider.
- Please link to a specific post, not a general blog address.
- Your post must relate to your efforts to create an intentional home. I have a delete button, and I’m not afraid to use it.
- No links to giveaways, please.
- There are buttons to add to your post or sidebar, too, thanks to the lovely Alex, of Type A Calligraphy. Let me know if you would like one for your site. Please link the buttons back to Pancakes and French Fries.
- Let’s use this weekly link up as an opportunity to gather inspiration and motivation. Click links. Discover new people. Say hi and good job. I know I will.
