Homely Category
I lived in the house my parents built until I was 18 years old. Since then, on average I’ve moved at least once a year. Below, you can read all about my housing shuffles, apartments, househunting, and cozy homemaking. The summary since I started this blog in late 2000: Olympia, New York, Seattle, Los Angeles, Seattle. Spring of 2005, Andreas and I bought our first house in Seattle’s Rainier Beach neighborhood.
“Are we officially yuppies now?” Andreas asked me, as we drove home in our Subaru station wagon, warm and caffeinated from two cups of chai (non-fat for me, soy for him). I sighed and said, “Yes.” It was the truth — because yesterday I did something I’d never done before: I hired a friend named Kell to clean my house every two weeks.
You see: cleaning makes me angry. I am deeply jealous of my friends who find cleaning therapeutic, because it’s the opposite for me. It feels me with rage and resentment and bitterness. I know not why. But something about cleaning makes me feel violent. Every single mess is somehow not mine, and I want to blame Andreas for the pile of my dirty underwear on the floor and the bowls of crusted yogurt in the sink (riiiiight, cuz the vegan ate that bowl of yogurt). Poor thing.
I’m making a concerted effort this year to chill the fuck out, and trying to eliminate a rage-inducing chore is part of that. Plus, I didn’t go looking for a cleaner. A member of my extended circle of aging ravers cleans for a living, and while I’d never feel comfortable with a maid service (I’ve read Nickel and Dimed for godsake!), somehow it feel ok to keep it in the family and help support a single mom. Plus, I made a point to pay Kell a third more than her asking price, which I felt was too low. Cleaning is hard fucking work! I should know, since I hate doing it so much.
Still, it felt strange. I’m such a bad cleaner that I couldn’t even think of what to tell Kell to do. Our house is far from squalor — Dre and I are tidy, but not clean. In other words, the house wasn’t a mess, but it was grimy. When I walked in and saw the kitchen after Kell had worked her magic, I was stunned — you mean, the cabinets are actually WHITE?!
And so now, every two weeks, Kell will come and help us clean. I’m doing what I can to get over feeling weird about it — it’s absolutely worth it to me, but there’s some part of me that feels like I’m now a half step away from chinos. Oh god: and I’m totally lusting after small dogs. Odd. I’m like my own trophy wife.
The drain ain’t the only thing that’s slow…
12
Mar
2007
In: Homely
Ever since the pedestal sink went into the new bathroom, it’s drained slowly. I mean, really slowly. Ridiculously slowly. We’d tried several trouble shooting measures — checking the U-pipe of the drain (could it be clogged already?), using Drano (ew!) — but nothing seemed to work. It still drained about a teaspoon a minute.
Just before we both left town, Dre and I admitted we were stumped. Today I decided to call a plumber because I had a theory that some caulk or grout from the remodeling project had gotten down the drain and clogged up the pipes. A snake would fix it, right?
The plumber came by this afternoon and the first thing he did was turn on the water to see how slowly the sink was draining. After 20 seconds he said “Oh, your drain stopper isn’t sitting right.”
Then he reached around behind the sink and fiddled with the stopper hardware for 10 seconds. Then he turned the water back on and it drained just fine. He looked at me apologetically.
“Wow, it’s just like tech support,” I said. “Except for I feel even more stupid.” Then I paid him $100, which is the company’s minimum charge for dispatching a plumber to your house. Just call it a dumb-ass tax. (Actually though, it was worth every penny because I don’t actually care what the problem was: we couldn’t solve it and the plumber could. Therefore, he deserves the pay.)
Rainier Betch
16
Jan
2007
In: Homely
Reflecting pool
Originally uploaded by .Ariel.
I must tell you that there are days — many days — when Andreas and I wonder what the hell we’re doing in Rainier Beach. We love our house, but we’re both rural kids who grew into urban adults … and so what the fuck are we doing in the burbs? We can’t walk to anything! We have a yard we hate taking care of! Dre’s vegetable garden did not perform to his exacting standards! Even though we only have one car we drive it way, way too frequently. If I’m going to have to drive everywhere, at least I can live in the deep forest instead of in the burbs.
We’ve been mulling over selling the house and moving back into the heart of the city. Not any time soon, mind you. But just as an option. There would be sacrifices (most notably space: we’d go from a three-bedroom house with a big yard and a garage to a compact one or two bedroom condo or co-op), but it would be so fucking nice to walk to the grocery store and feel the city breathing around us again. My mother tried to argue that living in the burbs keeps us “closer to nature” but I was like “Mom, our back yard is not nature.” Unless you ask my in-laws who might argue otherwise, given my lack of yardwork skills.
All that said, however, Rainier Beach gave me a wonderful gift today. It’s been snowing a lot in Seattle, and I took my camera down to the gorgeous Kubota Gardens to capture its glory. And for today, I am glad I live here, where I can stroll through a Japanese garden in the snow and listen to crows and find unexpected snowmen. For today, this is a good place to live.
Do not laugh
28
Dec
2006
In: Homely
Domestic violence is never funny … except for when you (perhaps inadvertently, perhaps not) spank your husband a little too hard and he looks up from the floor where he’s been gathering footwear and says “GO AWAY!” and then later admits “I almost beat you with a slipper.”
Open house — now with leaks!
10
Dec
2006
In: Homely
leak!, originally uploaded by yelahneb.
Nothing like having a big house party where people come over in part to see your new bathroom … and then halfway through the evening realizing that the upstairs toilet is leaking into the basement bathroom. “Hi! Welcome to my house where pee drips through the floor! Cocktail, anyone?”
Here are more pictures of the party, courtesy of Ben!
“Are we officially yuppies now?” Andreas asked me, as we drove home in our Subaru station wagon, warm and caffeinated from two cups of chai (non-fat for me, soy for him). I sighed and said, “Yes.” It was the truth — because yesterday I did something I’d never done before: I hired a friend named Kell to clean my house every two weeks.
You see: cleaning makes me angry. I am deeply jealous of my friends who find cleaning therapeutic, because it’s the opposite for me. It feels me with rage and resentment and bitterness. I know not why. But something about cleaning makes me feel violent. Every single mess is somehow not mine, and I want to blame Andreas for the pile of my dirty underwear on the floor and the bowls of crusted yogurt in the sink (riiiiight, cuz the vegan ate that bowl of yogurt). Poor thing.
I’m making a concerted effort this year to chill the fuck out, and trying to eliminate a rage-inducing chore is part of that. Plus, I didn’t go looking for a cleaner. A member of my extended circle of aging ravers cleans for a living, and while I’d never feel comfortable with a maid service (I’ve read Nickel and Dimed for godsake!), somehow it feel ok to keep it in the family and help support a single mom. Plus, I made a point to pay Kell a third more than her asking price, which I felt was too low. Cleaning is hard fucking work! I should know, since I hate doing it so much.
Still, it felt strange. I’m such a bad cleaner that I couldn’t even think of what to tell Kell to do. Our house is far from squalor — Dre and I are tidy, but not clean. In other words, the house wasn’t a mess, but it was grimy. When I walked in and saw the kitchen after Kell had worked her magic, I was stunned — you mean, the cabinets are actually WHITE?!
And so now, every two weeks, Kell will come and help us clean. I’m doing what I can to get over feeling weird about it — it’s absolutely worth it to me, but there’s some part of me that feels like I’m now a half step away from chinos. Oh god: and I’m totally lusting after small dogs. Odd. I’m like my own trophy wife.
The drain ain’t the only thing that’s slow…
12 Mar 2007 In: HomelyEver since the pedestal sink went into the new bathroom, it’s drained slowly. I mean, really slowly. Ridiculously slowly. We’d tried several trouble shooting measures — checking the U-pipe of the drain (could it be clogged already?), using Drano (ew!) — but nothing seemed to work. It still drained about a teaspoon a minute.
Just before we both left town, Dre and I admitted we were stumped. Today I decided to call a plumber because I had a theory that some caulk or grout from the remodeling project had gotten down the drain and clogged up the pipes. A snake would fix it, right?
The plumber came by this afternoon and the first thing he did was turn on the water to see how slowly the sink was draining. After 20 seconds he said “Oh, your drain stopper isn’t sitting right.”
Then he reached around behind the sink and fiddled with the stopper hardware for 10 seconds. Then he turned the water back on and it drained just fine. He looked at me apologetically.
“Wow, it’s just like tech support,” I said. “Except for I feel even more stupid.” Then I paid him $100, which is the company’s minimum charge for dispatching a plumber to your house. Just call it a dumb-ass tax. (Actually though, it was worth every penny because I don’t actually care what the problem was: we couldn’t solve it and the plumber could. Therefore, he deserves the pay.)
Rainier Betch
16 Jan 2007 In: HomelyReflecting pool
Originally uploaded by .Ariel.
I must tell you that there are days — many days — when Andreas and I wonder what the hell we’re doing in Rainier Beach. We love our house, but we’re both rural kids who grew into urban adults … and so what the fuck are we doing in the burbs? We can’t walk to anything! We have a yard we hate taking care of! Dre’s vegetable garden did not perform to his exacting standards! Even though we only have one car we drive it way, way too frequently. If I’m going to have to drive everywhere, at least I can live in the deep forest instead of in the burbs.
We’ve been mulling over selling the house and moving back into the heart of the city. Not any time soon, mind you. But just as an option. There would be sacrifices (most notably space: we’d go from a three-bedroom house with a big yard and a garage to a compact one or two bedroom condo or co-op), but it would be so fucking nice to walk to the grocery store and feel the city breathing around us again. My mother tried to argue that living in the burbs keeps us “closer to nature” but I was like “Mom, our back yard is not nature.” Unless you ask my in-laws who might argue otherwise, given my lack of yardwork skills.
All that said, however, Rainier Beach gave me a wonderful gift today. It’s been snowing a lot in Seattle, and I took my camera down to the gorgeous Kubota Gardens to capture its glory. And for today, I am glad I live here, where I can stroll through a Japanese garden in the snow and listen to crows and find unexpected snowmen. For today, this is a good place to live.
Do not laugh
28 Dec 2006 In: HomelyDomestic violence is never funny … except for when you (perhaps inadvertently, perhaps not) spank your husband a little too hard and he looks up from the floor where he’s been gathering footwear and says “GO AWAY!” and then later admits “I almost beat you with a slipper.”
Open house — now with leaks!
10 Dec 2006 In: Homelyleak!, originally uploaded by yelahneb.
Nothing like having a big house party where people come over in part to see your new bathroom … and then halfway through the evening realizing that the upstairs toilet is leaking into the basement bathroom. “Hi! Welcome to my house where pee drips through the floor! Cocktail, anyone?”
Here are more pictures of the party, courtesy of Ben!
Hey there. I'm Ariel Meadow Stallings, a native Seattleite who's written my way up and down the Left Coast. Electrolicious is where I post daily randomata, but I also write for a living. My first book, Offbeat Bride, was published last year.
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