Grudging Domesticity

I'm not sure how or when I suddenly turned into the domestic goddess I am now becoming. And, quite frankly, it's a little alarming, since I'm not actually trying that hard. I've completely ditched any attempts at creating a "clutter-free" home (the word itself nauseates me), and yet, I spend random moments "simplifying", finding ways to either reuse something we already have or just finding it a home where it will become someone else's problem. Freecycle's pretty awesome if you're looking to get rid of crap. I don't think I've managed to actually get anything yet (a little slow on the email-draw, it appears).

I forgot to mention that we are going on our second week TV-free. It's hard to believe it's only been two weeks, since it seems like more, which is probably a good reason to get rid of it - we were spending so much time in front of it that we now have all this time to do other things. I observed two days into our cold-turkey TV detox that now I had all this time to clean, and promptly began scurrying about like a chicken with her head cut off - thus proving that my own addiction was just as bad as son's.

I decided to start making bread, from scratch. Mostly to save money, as we've now discovered that we're more poor than we were in the military, despite higher wages. In any case, I found a recipe entitled "No Knead, Dutch Oven Bread" and promptly set out to make it, after spending an entire Sunday kneading, rising, kneading, rising, poking, and prodding two loaves of bread (that turned out deliciously, I might add). Aside from the fact that this was really an experiment and something was bound to go wrong (got a little dark, or, as some might say, burnt), it turned out well. So tonight, I whipped up another, and it's a-rising.

And then, there was Monday, when I decided the kitchen needed to be scrubbed from top to bottom. It was really bizarre, since I hate cleaning, and actually had no intention of doing anything of the sort, other than loading the dishwasher and wiping down the counters. It was a good thing, though, because whoa, nelly! Things had gotten a tad groady, and since I'm clearly not obsessive in the least, it was probably really nasty. Since husband does the dishes most nights (a deal I worked out, since I make most meals), he was impressed and now makes sure it remains as clean as possible.

On Saturday, I decided to scope out a few stores I had heard about in the Southeast side, and happened upon a little consignment shop, snagged some wicker laundry baskets (one which smelled like cigarette smoke, yuck, which I didn't realize until the drive home, arg) and used two of the many flannel baby blankets we were given to create a nice little insert for one of them. So, yay, we now have a decent, inexpensive laundry basket. I've devised a plan to get the smell out of the other one, but there's no telling if it will work.

I suppose it was inevitable, with all this time at home I'd learn a few things, put them to use and actually become a decent, dare I say it?...homemaker. I shudder at the thought. I guess it's better than 'freeloader'.