What’s in YOUR wallet?

No, I’m not jumping on the Capital One bandwagon.

I’m asking a serious question.

If you lost your wallet today, would you know what’s in it? Would you know who to call and what to cancel?

This week’s newsletter from Cheryl Richardson had a reminder, among others, about keeping a record of the contents of your wallet. She suggested taking 5-10 minutes to make a list of card numbers and customer service phone numbers.

But I’ve got a better tip. Next time you’re in the library or the UPS store or the FedEx store or anywhere they have a copy machine, shell out fifty cents or so. Take all the credit cards and ID cards and membership cards out of your wallet, put them flat on the glass, and copy them. If they have phone numbers on the back, turn them over and copy the backs. Take the pages home and put them somewhere safe: file cabinet, desk drawer, wherever.

If and when you lose your wallet, you are going to be SO glad you did that.

I know. I got pick-pocketed once. It’s a nuisance, but nowhere near the nuisance it would be if you don’t have the list.

Think about it.

All the phone numbers to call—right there.

All the account numbers to cancel—right there.

All the stress and worry, the danger that you forgot to cancel the one card that’s now being used to buy 37 iPads—out the window.

Isn’t that worth fifty cents or so?

Inside and Out

Mis-spending my life?

Emily Christensen (I’m sorry—I don’t know who she is) once said that a clean house is the sign of a misspent life.

This may be true. Certainly, there are more significant things one could be doing than sweeping floors.

But, I’ll tell you this. I’m sort of enjoying my currently—quite possibly temporarily—orderly house.

I was chatting over the last couple of days with various people who have been looking at the house next door. It’s recently gone on the market, and a lot of folks seem to be interested in it. It’s in a prime location, doesn’t need much work, and the price is pretty good. The realtors all seem to think it’s going to sell quickly.

The would-be purchasers have all had the usual questions. Do you like the neighborhood? How long has the house been empty? Is there anything wrong with it? And, because we live on the water, what about flooding?

What’s interesting to me is they almost all say very complimentary things about our house.

Mostly, I see the fogged window panes that need replacing and the parts of the lawn that are mostly weeds and the cracks in the driveway and the treehouse that needs drastic renovation.

Their enthusiasm has caused me to take a good look at it again.

And I’ve realized how far we’ve come since we moved into Casa Lagarto. Yes, there is still a long way to go. But. . .a new roof, the river rocks in all the flower beds, a front door instead of plywood, a roof on the dock, all the exterior trim painted, a new a/c system, new carpet in three rooms, furniture for the master bedroom, furniture for the guest room, the whole interior painted, a kitchen sink, a bathroom sink, two termite-damaged walls replaced.

That’s a lot.

And. . .there are the results of my hour-a-day cleaning and hour-a-day yard work.

At the moment, however long it lasts, there’s no clutter and no dust. The driveway and sidewalks are edged, the flower beds weeded. There are some leaves—because the dang Wizard of Oz trees shed from October to March—but the bulk of them have been raked and mowed and handled. The ligustrum has been trimmed. And the pittosporum.

We’re looking pretty good.

Inside and out.

It’s a miracle.

I plan to enjoy it while it lasts. (Check back with me next week!)

The eleventh hour

Happy Veterans Day!

To all the veterans of the United States Armed Forces—thank you for your service.

November 11th.

The eleventh hour of the eleventh day of the eleventh month—when the fighting ceased in World War I.

Originally known as Armistice Day, back when the War to End All Wars looked like it might have done that, and changed to Veterans Day in 1954 when it had become abundantly clear that it hadn’t, this is our national holiday to honor the patriotism and sacrifice of our veterans.

I hope none of them will think I mean to diminish their contribution when I say I hope we are approaching a time when the world will learn to live without such sacrifice.

I’m not the first, and, unfortunately, I probably won’t be the last to say it—but wouldn’t it be nice if we could figure that out?

You know—before the eleventh hour?

You just never know…

What you may come to.

I spent part of the last two days vacuuming a ceiling.

Let me say that again.

I spent part of the last two days vacuuming a ceiling.

This is not a sentence I thought I would ever write in my life.

Certainly, with any vacuum I’ve ever had up until now, it would have been impossible to write it with any degree of truth. I have a central vacuum now, however, so there’s a long, LONG hose and many attachments. Hence, vacuuming a ceiling is a possibility.

In my laundry room—which is “unfinished” to a large extent—it just suddenly seemed like a good idea. The room has—I guess they call it a dropped ceiling or a suspended ceiling. So, it has these tiles—which surely need to be replaced as they have not stood up well to some leaks prior to our ownership. Trouble is, they don’t all need to be replaced—only I can’t find any matching tiles so the whole thing is just one of the million or so items on the To Do list.

In the meantime, I thought I would turn my attention to cleaning the laundry room in my one-hour-a-day plan. While I was at it, I vacuumed the tiles. I just stuck the brush attachment on the end of the wand and ran the whole thing over the tiles.

Darned if they don’t look better. (Not good, mind you. Just better.)

The whole time I was doing it, however, I was in a state of bemusement because I was vacuuming the ceiling!

And, you know? I expect I may be vacuuming other ceilings eventually. It’s an old house with a crow’s foot texture on the ceiling in all the other rooms. Looks like a dust catcher to me.

On the one hand, I feel nostalgic for the days when I kept the vacuum on the floor. On the other, well, it amused me quite a bit—and provided a blog post, so, hey!

You really just never know.

Run away.

“Art is the only way to run away without leaving home.”

~ Twyla Tharp

Do y’all know Twyla Tharp? I find it hard to believe you’ve never heard the name—and once heard, it’s likely to be remembered, isn’t it?

But, not everybody pays attention to certain things, so it’s possible that you don’t know that Ms. Tharp has been one of our most eminent choreographers for over 40 years. She has studied with the greats of Modern Dance, had her own dance company, worked with the American Ballet Theatre, created Broadway shows.

One of those careers of stunning achievement.

When that happens, it’s really great when the achiever lets you in on some of the secrets.

So, here’s something I found a few years ago that I re-read from time to time:

The Creative Habit: Learn it and Use it for Life
by—you guessed it!—Twyla Tharp

It sits on my shelves near my copy of The Artist’s Way with which it shares some common ground. Not quite as much of a workbook, maybe, The Creative Habit reinforces the idea that creativity is something you can work toward.

There are useful exercises and a strong, practical approach, an understanding that creative work is work. I get the sense that Ms. Tharp agrees with Pablo Picasso: Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working.

I know that this book is a good one for me to go to when I’m just floundering around, not doing anything. At the very least, it reminds me that doing something is better than doing nothing. It gives me practical tips on figuring out what to do and how to shape it. At the best, it inspires me to keep working.

Who could ask for anything more?

To sleep,

Perchance to dream*

(Flapdoodle!)

Thankful today that, in general, I get enough sleep.

It’s on my mind, because Tuesday night, I did not get enough sleep. And I’m a little ticked off about that.

See, I started the evening with the firm intention of awaiting the outcome to the election. I was aware that meant it could be a very long night, but I was game. I wanted to know what happened. It seemed to me to be infinitely more desirable to be disappointed (assuming disappointment was the outcome—and it was 50/50, you know)—infinitely more desirable to be disappointed and then go to bed than to awake to disappointment.

There was always the chance of a joyful outcome, too. And how much better to end the day on a high note than to miss all the excitement.

Having reviewed these possibilities exhaustively (2 or 3 seconds, at least), I decided to stay up and see what happened.

All well and good, and the election was called remarkably early. At something like 11:15 pm, it looked like I would be heading off to bed.

Then there was a little problem with math over on the losing side, and we were suddenly looking at—we didn’t know what.

Now, a person cannot go to bed with the spectre of that famous photo of Truman the morning after the 1948 election hanging over her. She has to stay up to see what’s going to happen.

The result was that I didn’t get to bed until after two a.m.

You wouldn’t think that would be a big deal, but I’m neither as young as I once was nor,apparently, as resilient. I am certainly not as used to staying up late as I had been in the past. (56 hours without sleep is my limit. After that, I start to hallucinate. I know this from experience.)

Anyway, the election ended, the speeches were made, the pundits talked…and talked…and talked, and eventually, I went to bed.

I didn’t have to do anything important today, so it’s no bit deal that I’m tired and unproductive and have had a bit of a headache all day, but I do realize I need to be thankful for those days—and nights—I get enough sleep.

If you’re thinking about pulling an all-nighter sometime, I encourage you to think again. You might get more done if you take time to take a nap.

Try it. You’ll like it!

* Shakespeare, Hamlet, Act III, Sc. 1

And now?

Here we are.

With any kind of luck at all, we have a clear winner in the U.S. Presidential election. I’m writing this as the returns are coming in (what? you think I get up at the crack of dawn to do this?)

At just about midnight, all the major networks have called the race for President Obama. However, the Romney campaign is not conceding, at the moment.

It doesn’t look like they have a path to victory where the math is possible, but they’re holding out. This seems to be part of a trend. Facts don’t count. We don’t believe data. We don’t believe science.

I wonder today, on this Wondering Wednesday, why anybody wonders why we have a problem with education.

However, it is fair to make sure that the votes have been counted. I’m okay with that, although I’d like to be able to go to bed knowing it’s settled.

And I wonder if this—once it is settled—means that we might get an actual working government where people realize not everybody can have exactly what they want and compromise is not always a bad thing.

Because there’s one thing I don’t wonder—and that is that we cannot go forward if people don’t get out of the way.

I’m going to bed thinking and hoping that this is a good day for the United States of America.

(UPDATE: It’s 1 am and Mr. Romney has conceded. It is over, and it is a good day for the United States of America. I still wonder if we can move forward, but I have higher hopes than I did yesterday.)

Like magic

Both of these tips.

If you are a U.S. citizen and you voted already—today or in the last few weeks—thanks! And congratulations for taking part in the democratic process!

If you haven’t voted yet, what are you sitting around reading blogs for? Get up, get out, and get to the polls!

First tip for this Tuesday is use it or lose it.

Then, in a quick trip from the sublime to the ridiculous—or, at least, the mundane—the second tip is related to yesterday’s post about my cleaning miracle.

Just thought I’d take a minute to alert you to a handy-dandy product called the Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. Now, in the interests of full disclosure, I suspect I may own some shares of a mutual fund that may own some shares of Procter & Gamble. I get bored to death reading fund prospectus,* so I’m not entirely sure. It’s certainly possible, though.

However, my purpose here is your profit, not mine.

The profit in the Magic Eraser is that it really is like magic.

I’d seen the ads, of course, but I figured it was just another attempt to get me to spend money. When one of my cousin’s (once removed) suggested it as a way to clean grout, I thought I’d give it a try.

Well!

It’s kind of amazing. First of all, it cleans with just water. No chemicals at all. How cool is that? And secondly, it really does clean. You just moisten it a bit and run it over whatever you’re cleaning, and wowee!. I’m sure it works better on some surfaces than others, but I can tell you—white grout? Excellent! Melamine shelves and cabinet doors? Perfect!

The only downside that I can see is that the “sponges” don’t last too long. They have a terrific effect while they do, though. (I’ve heard they aren’t too good for certain painted and polished surfaces. As with anything, please use caution. Test in an inconspicuous spot before going hog wild.)

Anyway, it seems to be a useful product. Thought you might like to know.

* You probably thought the plural of “prospectus” was “prospecti.” Or, possibly, “prospectuses.” Me, too. Turns out we were both wrong. Something to do with the fourth declension (your guess is as good as mine) in Latin. The plural of “prospectus” is “prospectus.” (And they say English is hard to learn.)

Miracle in the making

My hour of power.

For a week now, I’ve been implementing a new approach to housework.

One hour a day.

I pick a room, start in one corner, and proceed all the way around it cleaning everything in sight—whether it needs it or not. For exactly one hour. When the hour is up, I’m done.

It seems to be working pretty well. My house is as clean as it has ever been since we moved into it. Now, it should be noted that I had done a big housecleaning push before I started this hour a day method. Company was anticipated, so, you know—extra cleaning. Honored guest, and all that.

So, my goal is to keep the house in that condition without killing myself.

So far, so good.

I’ve also been doing an hour of yard work a day—for the same reason.

Seven days have passed since I began this experiment. That’s exactly one-third of the time “they” say it takes to create a new habit. I don’t know for sure if it’s going to last, or if an hour a day is going to be enough. (My house is a lot bigger than the apartment I used to live in.) I might need to devote extra time periodically. Almost certainly, big projects—like cleaning out closets, etc.—will require extra effort. For general, ordinary cleaning, however, this is promising.

It’s enough time to make some progress, but not enough time to exhaust me or bore me silly. (I started out silly, so. . .that’s probably not a fair criterion.)

You might want to try this. Maybe you can’t spare an hour a day. You might manage a half hour or fifteen minutes. There’s definitely something pleasant about hanging out in an environment you know is clean.

It’s kind of a miracle.

Do you know what time it is?

I’m not sure you do.

Too many clocks. Too many different settings.

In case you forgot, last night—Saturday—or, really, some time this morning—here in the U.S., we were supposed to set our clocks back to accommodate the switch from Daylight Savings Time back to Standard Time.

I went around and did it yesterday afternoon since I had nowhere I had to be later Saturday in a timely manner. In other words, other than any possible TV shows I might want to watch, it didn’t matter to me what time it was.

There are people who don’t bother. They use their computers and their cell phones—devices that are supposed to change automatically. My problem with that is that I have noticed that the phone companies don’t always change the time until Monday. The subways never did. And the computer. . .well, let’s just say my trust level is low. I was unduly influenced, perhaps, by HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey. Or by the Blue Screen of Death. It doesn’t bode well for any chance of me turning the driving over to a computerized car, does it? My PC may change back to Standard Time on time, but, you know, my Palm Pilot changed about two weeks ago. I guess it never got the message about the new, extended Daylight Savings Time.

Anyway, there are the clocks that changed automatically and the clocks that are going to change automatically but haven’t yet and the clocks you changed manually and the clocks way up high on a shelf that you forgot to change and the clocks you changed manually but accidentally mixed up the AM and PM and the clocks that are off anyway because the power went out for twenty minutes last Tuesday and the wristwatch in the back of the drawer and so on.

To say nothing of your body clock which is going to have you waking up at 4 or 5 am for the next few days no matter what the other clocks say.

Good luck with all that.

Elaine Smith Writes

Anything She Wants