The Atomic Housewife

Everything you never wanted to know about the inner-workings of my little mind. I'm no longer a housewife, but, hey, I like the name.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

1959 Better Homes

You Asked For It


For as long as I can remember, my friends have been asking me for advice. OK, well, maybe not asking me, but they have been getting it. As a teen, while pretending to hate and ignore my mom, I was secretly listening to everything she said. Got a rust stain? Pour on some lemon juice and baking soda and place the item in the sun. Some red ink on your white sweater? Spray the area with some hairspray so the alcohol can draw out the ink, then wash. I loved the stunned reaction of my friends as they said, "How do you KNOW this stuff?" Back then, I would just mysteriously say that I picked up the information somewhere.
As I got older, I attributed all of my knowledge to my mom. I'm sure my coworkers imagined my mom to be some kind of omniscient being, dispensing household tips in the blink of an eye. Lately though, after giving such tips to my mom, she has claimed that even SHE didn't know some of this stuff. I don't know what disturbs me more, that I have filled my brain with hundreds of unattributed "junk" tips, or that I have soaked them up through some kind of housewife osmosis without even knowing I was doing so. I do hate not knowing how something works, or worse yet, how to fix it if it breaks. My fear has filled my brain with quick fixes, stain removal tips, and ingredient exchanges. My brain is so full of this stuff that any knowledge of mathematical equations, geography and the French language has been completely pushed out. I have only myself to blame. But my gravy will never be thin.

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1 Comments:

Blogger Domestic Chicky said...

My husband calls it "an endless capacity for useless knowledge" - hey, can I help it if I read too many books? (no such thing, right...right?)

2:31 PM  

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