5 Things in My House I Use Much Too Often

(And my quest to change it all.)

1. The Internet

The world wide web is a grand thing. We all know the pros and cons because, like many good things, it can quickly be turned into a bad thing. For some, it can feed addictions. For others, it allows them to indulge in a feeling of escape. For me, it’s a time suck.

 I don’t want to cut the Internet out of my life totally, because I do use it for a lot of good things.  It helps me learn Spanish.  (Hola, amigo! Como esta? Mucho gusto! No se como hacer el acento con el ordenador!) I totally googled that last one.

The Internet is where I turn when I want to look up the chords to a new worship song, or when I want to see pictures of my friends and family and find out what they’re doing, or when I want to chat with my mom. (We’re type-chatting right now. She’s coming to visit in three weeks, yay!) And I LOVE looking up copycat recipes. I’ve found a whole lot of great recipes from cooking blogs and recipe sites. So it can be good, but let’s be honest – it can also suck away vast quantities of time. I often find myself staring at “20 Amazing Animal Pictures That Will Change Your Life” or “31 Celebrities That Raise Chickens.” I click on links to articles that I see posted because, “Hey, my friend thought it was interesting, so surely it must be interesting!” One thing inevitably leads to another and before I know it, I’ve spent an hour on the Internet and don’t even remember why I sat down at my computer to begin with.

Well sir, no more. I’m putting on my perspectacles (blatantly stolen from a great blog post by “G” at momastery.com, one of the ones worth reading!) and seeing what I could be doing with all that time. Laundry. Reading to Bella. Bible studies. Prayer. Crafts. Talking with my nieces on the phone. Playing music with Josh. Writing blog posts that will challenge people to change their lives….er….you get the idea. I can be using that time a lot more productively.

2. The trash can

Bella and I have been reading the Little House books this summer, and one thing jumps out at me over and over again – how little they wasted. An animal that was killed was used up, piece by piece – bones, meat, fat, hide…everything had a use. When crops were harvested, the fruit went to the house, the tops and roots and chaff were used for animals. Scraps of food were fed to the stock. Apple cores were saved for the entire year and made into vinegar. Laura and Mary ran around picking up nails from the ground when Pa was roofing the house. If a nail was bent, Pa straightened it and used it. “It wouldn’t do to waste a nail.” Nothing was wasted, because waste was a sin.

Last week, I cleaned out my refrigerator on trash day, and threw away an entire bag of food. A whole bag of things I forgot about, thinks I never got around to, things that I meant to make but never did, things that had spoiled or turned. It was much more than I usually throw away because I had a terrible time keeping up with anything this summer, but as I hauled that bulging bag to the curb, I felt appalled, remorseful and shamed all at the same time.

Usually, I feel like I waste less than the “average person.” (I put it in quotes because really, I don’t know what the average person wastes. But I know that when I take my trash out on trash day, I usually have fewer bags than most other houses, so there’s that.) I recycle everything that can be recycled in our city. I collect all paper and lightweight cardstock in a basket in my pantry, and when it’s full I take it to school to the paper recycler. I give all of our recyclable paper to Bella to draw on and craft with before I recycle it, so that she has a constant supply of paper without using up new paper. I compost and save food scraps for the chickens. And yet, there I was, dragging at LEAST $50 (I nearly choke thinking about it) worth of bad food out to the trash because I just never got around to it.

That is not pleasing to God. It shows a lack of respect for the bounty that he has given to me, and my goal is to stop that. I want to be diligent, to show good stewardship with all of my resources – time, money, food, everything. No more waste!

3. The dishwasher

No, I don’t have anything intrinsically against a dishwasher. It’s more about what the dishwasher represents. When Josh and I were first married, I never used this particular appliance. It came with the house, but I just didn’t use it. I use it to store my pots and pans. I washed my dishes in the sink, which is what I had done my whole life, because growing up, we didn’t have a dishwasher. Occasionally I would have a pile of them to do, but most of the time, I got them done in a reasonable amount of time.

Now, the past three years, I use the dishwasher because I feel like it is the only thing helping me keep my head above water. Some days I look at my counter and I am appalled at the pile of dishes everywhere. The past several months, actually, Josh has been doing the majority of housework and that is the only thing that has kept my head above water! I’d like to say that I just don’t have enough time to do what needs to be done, but that’s not entirely true. The truth is, I don’t use my time in the best way possible, resulting in a pileup of housework. If I were more diligent, and finished things as they came up instead of putting them off, I would not need to load up three loads of dishes. Again, it’s not the dishwasher that I want to cut out of my life, it’s the way in which I use the dishwasher – namely, to dig myself out of a hole that could have been avoided had I acted more wisely.

4. The scale

When I was 20 years old, I never weighed myself. I don’t think I even owned a scale for the first several years we were married. Ah, the good old days, when I could binge on Coke floats and Kit Kat bars with absolutely no ill effects. Not so, anymore. At 26 my metabolism suddenly changed (curse you, genetics!) and, to quote a dear departed German friend, “now I’m spreading out all over the place.”

Sometimes it’s like a weird mole or a nasty bruise. You don’t actually like to look at it, yet you feel compelled. The number on the scale never used to mean anything to me. I would step on and step off every now and then with this breezy little air. “Oh, I see I am still a twig. Excellent. Well, I’ll just be on my way then.” No relief, no burden to know….just idle curiosity.

Now, that same act is performed with trepidation. Where will the number be? I dare not hope it’s gone down, but has it gone up? The result of this auspicious moment in time can make or break my day. I must see. I simply must know.

And now, I resolve to stop. I am trying, every day. And some days are fantastic, and some are not. And I realize that I am not perfect, but I also realize that as long as I keep trying to be healthy, I’m never truly beaten. I’m not going to stop caring, I’m just going to stop being saddled to a number. The number is not me; it’s my daily decisions that define who I am. So I am going to focus on those daily decisions, and not whatever result they may bring on a scale.

5. The rinse cycle on the washing machine

Quite often, I throw a load of clothes into the washing machine. I go on about my business and realize, sometimes an entire day later, that I never put them in the dryer. After that length of time, I can’t just throw them in – they’d reek of dryer funk, as I like to call it. (You know, that nasty mildew smell clothes get if you wait too long to put them into the dryer.) So I have to rinse them again.

Then I go about my business, and sometimes, an entire day after that when I can’t find my favorite jeans, I realize that I never threw them into the dryer. Again. So they have to be rinsed. Again. Our washer is not the new breed of quiet, efficient washers. It takes 45 gallons of water for a load, or some obscene number like that. I’m wasting electricity and resources every time I fail to remember a simple chore.

Again, I am not lamenting my washer’s rinse cycle. What I am concerned about is the amount of carelessness that I allow in my daily life. I just don’t pay attention to something, even something easy, and it ends up costing me time, energy and resources. Not the way I want to live my life. There are other areas in which I struggle with carelessness too; the laundry is just an example. So my goal, ever moving forward, is to have a care – to focus on tasks at hand and see them through, so that I don’t end up with unnecessary waste and having to redo tasks that have already been done.

Obviously, a lot of the things in this list overlap in a very definable cause-and-effect type of way.  This is not a soap box or a rant. I’m not full of righteous indignation, thinking that you all need to be more like me and take up these same causes. But for me, they are specific areas of my life that the Lord has been dealing with me about, so they are things that I am forever working on.

The Ten Commandments (for visiting a waterpark)

The Ten Commandments

(for visiting a waterpark)

((or any other public attraction))

I. Thou shalt not leave thy cherry pits on the earth.

Or your peanut shells, or your pistachio shells, or your watermelon seeds. Yes, I know we’re technically outside, and so the urge is strong. “Hmm, I can just throw my shells / pits / seeds on the ground.” But no, you can’t. People walk there. It hurts when they step on hard pits and sharp shells. And other people have to go behind you sweeping up all that trash you left on the ground. Perhaps you think, “Hey, it’s all natural. It’ll compost!” Well…no again. See, whatever micro-organisms lived on the ground before the park was there were probably covered up when seventeen thousand tons of concrete was poured over them. Our paved walkways and fiberglass pools lack the proper biological life forms for composting anything, so that’s a bust. Do you throw shells on the floor at your house? I’m guessing probably not. So please don’t do it at the park either.

II. If thou hast thy kin at the park with thee, and the youngest of these must yet wear diapers, thou shalt use swim diapers.

Because regular diapers are NOT made to be soaked through, and definitely not for extended periods of time. I know, they’re a little more expensive than regular diapers, and store brands don’t usually make swim diapies, so you’re stuck with the price tag for name brand. But seriously, regular diapers are NOT made to be soaked through. They will fill with chlorinated water. They will swell to three times their normal size and make your child forty-two pounds heavier. And at the most inconvenient moment possible, they will burst, and their ooey-gooey sticky bead crystal thingies will spill forth onto the ground or the bathroom floor, and sit there like a ginormous pile of stinky shaved ice while you flee the scene of the crime. There is a distinct possibility that before I see the offending mess, someone will have complained to the manager about the state of the restroom, and I will have to make the walk of shame to clean up the diaper disaster not ten minutes after I left the restroom clean and sanitary.

III. Thou shalt use the little silver boxes in the restroom stalls only for their intended purpose.

This one gets gross, so I will not go into detail here. But, should you ever be tempted to stuff something in there that was clearly never intended to be stuffed in there, please refrain, for the sake of the custodian and for the sake of every person that uses that stall after you.

IV. Thou shalt wash thy hands after availing thyself of the facilities.

I know you’re about to jump back into water so loaded with chemicals you’d probably faint dead away if you knew about them all, but I can’t help thinking that if we were all dependable to be a little cleaner, maybe we wouldn’t need so many of those chemicals….?

V. Thou shalt choose a bathroom stall in ten seconds or less.

Ladies, this one is for you. There is no need to wander up and down the stalls, swinging the doors open, peeking inside, contemplating and wondering. They are all in a relatively similar state of cleanliness or uncleanliness. If you’re there when we open, there’s a good chance that your toilet of choice is sparkling clean. If you’re there in the middle of the day, then I’m sorry, but there is no way around it – at least a thousand butts have touched those seats. And I get it – you want the one that has been touched by the fewest and cleanest butts; there is, however, no way to tell. And honestly, I know we all like to think everyone else’s bottoms are gross while ours is sparkling clean, but it’s just not so. Hiney is hiney, and there comes a point in the day when every single toilet has been touched extensively by it. So as long as the toilet is flushed and there’s nothing gross on the floor (see Commandments Two and Three, above), just pick a stall and sit, and leave the rest to fate.

VI. Thou shalt not address the maintenance staff using combinations of adjectives and nouns.

I am not “Sweeper Girl.” I am also not “Blue Shirt Lady” or “Helper Person.” I’m actually wearing a nametag. Required. I have to have it on before I can even clock in. It’s there so that if you need something, you can tell me so without resorting to strange and awkward sobriquets. If I have my back turned to you, or in the event that you are near sighted and I am far away, a simple, “Miss?” or “Excuse me, ma’am?” is perfectly acceptable.

VII. Thou shalt not tell the custodial staff that you feel sorry for them.

This is unnecessary but it doesn’t actually bother me – I truly know you mean well. After all, I am crouched over the toilets for the second or third or even fourth time that day, and I know your sympathy is meant to be a kindness, so I take it as such. However….you needn’t feel sorry for me. I knew what I was signing up for when I took the job. I knew it would involve a lot of toilets and a lot of trash and a whole heckuvalot of sun. I don’t do my job in silent pity or shame. I hold my head high. (That’s technically untrue. I am nearly always looking down, either cleaning in the bathroom or scanning the ground for trash that needs to be swept. But you know what I mean.) When the park opens, I am proud that it is clean and safe. When you walk into the restroom and I have just cleaned it, it makes me happy (even though I know you’re going to wander around looking for just the right stall anyway). When I am there, I take ownership of the park. I invite you in, I greet you and smile at you and when I tell you that I hope so much that you enjoy your day, I really mean it. I am proud of the stage I set for your enjoyment – I take care of the trash and the bathrooms and the walkways so that you don’t have to, so that you can have fun with your family. So please don’t feel sorry for me. Don’t let sympathy for my plight interrupt the happiness of your day. Trust me, I don’t feel sorry for myself.

VIII. Thou shalt tell the staff when you need something.

Are you unhappy about something that happened? I can help you with more than you think. Most of the time, you don’t need to go directly to a manager. I’ll get him for you, of course, if you absolutely must see him. But try me first. Some things are a very easy fix, and you know what? I like helping you out. I really do. If I don’t know the answer to a question, I will know how to find out. I will put up your umbrella for you, take your glasses back to your table so they don’t get lost in the water, help you find the right size life vest for your toddler, clear away your trays and drinks. I want your day to be GREAT, because you spent a lot of money either on season passes or general admission tickets to bring your whole family to this park, and you’re probably still spending money, what with food and treats and such. I’m a parent on a budget too, and I understand your perspective. I want to help you. No, I can’t refund your money if you’re completely dissatisfied with the birthday party package you paid for; but, I can blow up more floats if there aren’t enough, and I can fix your chair when it breaks, and I can run and grab a new ice cream cup for your son who is wailing like a banshee because his just spilled all over the ground. I can do a lot for you, and I want to, so don’t let a relatively minor mishap ruin your experience here. Just ask me for help.

IX. Thou shalt wear shoes everywhere in the park.

This is for your sake, not mine. Just trust me on this one.

X. Thou shalt leave when the park closes.

We close at six o’clock. Six o’clock is when the park closes, not just the rides and attractions. Six o’clock is not the proper time to get one last drink, buy one last snack, have a refreshing rest at your shaded table, then head to the bathroom to shower and change all thirty-two of your children, and finally gather up your things to leave by ten ‘til seven. The park closes at six. All of that other stuff should be done by six. And for goodness’ sake, you just got out of seven hours in the sun and you’re heading home…do you really need to wash and dry your hair and put on makeup? I cannot clean the bathrooms fully until everyone is gone. I can try, but every time I clean a toilet, it will get dirty again; and every time I wash a sink, it will get used, and every time I wipe the mirrors, they will get splattered, and every time I sweep the dressing rooms, tags and brushes and discarded clothing will be left in it. So for all practical purposes, it is correct to say that I cannot fully clean the bathroom until you have left it. Chances are good that I have been working for the past nine hours in ninety-seven degree heat, cleaning up after and waiting on your family. And I’m okay with that, because that’s my job while I’m there. But now we’re closed, and it will take me another hour or so to get everything clean after you’re gone, and I would really like to go home to my family. So please leave when the park closes, not thirty to sixty minutes after.