Posted in adulting, Challenges, General, Lifestyle

The 1950s Housewife Challenge: Day 8

I’ve passed the halfway mark of this challenge and circled back to the weekly chores in addition to the daily ones, and I’m not going to lie–I got kind of spoiled over the weekend of having only to do the dailies. I also noticed that although I was fine doing the daily chores, the weekly chores felt like…well, more of a chore.

Try not to be intimidated by my incredibly astute deductive reasoning.

Because I just did a deep clean of the bedrooms last Monday, it was hard to motivate myself to do it again. “Really? I have to wash the curtains again? I just cleaned them!”

Pictured: me being a pouty brat

But I know that’s part of the challenge, so I sucked it up and did it. Does it seem excessive to me to wash the curtains again already? Yeah, a little, but whatever. This challenge is only two weeks and having to run curtains through the washing machine is not even close to being a real, legitimate problem. However, I am starting to suspect that women were told to clean their houses likes this in the 1950s so that they didn’t have any free time for thinking. Check out this vintage ad for a washing machine:

Imagine having an idea and this was it.

Did I feel like a queen while washing curtains today? Not exactly, but maybe the problem is that I have blackout curtains and not light, sheer curtains. Clearly I need to go shopping for new window treatments and possibly a new washer and dryer combo. Then I’ll stop thinking about the psychosocial aspects of this challenge and focus more on feeling like royalty! Although I’m pretty sure Queen Elizabeth II isn’t over in England doing her own laundry.

“Bitch, please.”

I know last week I said I was going to give myself the option of adding in cooking dinner every night on top of the cleaning, but I ended up deciding against it. However, I did jokingly serve Jon a plate of food over the weekend by kneeling at his feet and presenting it to him with my head bowed so he could get the full experience of being “the Mister” while I do this challenge. This was his reaction:

Maybe I’ll just stick to cleaning.

Even though the cleaning is going a lot faster this week now that I don’t have to constantly check the to do list, it’s still a ton of work and I’m worn out.

Hey, Schlitz, I’m going to suggest you eat something that rhymes with the name of your beer.

This probably makes me an inferior housewife since women in the 1950s were, according to my source material where I got the challenge info, expected to clean and cook and make themselves pretty so they were like beautiful pieces of furniture for “the Mister” to enjoy at the end of his long workday. Unfortunately for Jon, I haven’t showered today and instead of something “festive,” I’m wearing a t-shirt featuring Lil’ Poundcake. Which, to be fair, could be considered festive if I’m getting ready to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race.

“You’re not my real dad and you never will be.”

When I sat down to write this post for today, I wanted to write something a little more substantial instead of just an update about my progress. However, now that I’m sitting in my couch and I’ve finally stopped running back and forth across my house while I clean the bedrooms and wash all the laundry, I feel like my brain is powering off. That being said, I’m kind of fascinated by the vintage ads I found for this post in a “rubberneck at the horrific car accident” kind of way. I might have to delve a little deeper into those during this last half of my challenge, but for today…I’m spent.

Or maybe I just need some of these “vitamins” which I’m pretty sure are just speed.

Day 9: No, sexist ad, I do not want to put Lysol up my Hello Kitty.

Click here to support me on Patreon and receive writing tips, prompts, and exclusive content available only to patrons! 

I can’t guarantee that supporting me on Patreon will cause you to have endless good hair days . . . but I can’t guarantee that it won’t either.

Posted in adulting, Challenges, General, Lifestyle

The 1950s Housewife Challenge: Day 5

I had a slightly uncomfortable realization today.

While I was cleaning, I was surprised by how good I felt about how the house looked. I also realized that after getting into the habit of doing daily maintenance plus a deep clean of an area each day, cleaning is getting easier and easier. It occurred to me that I started this challenge with an attitude of, “I’m going to clean every day like a housewife! Look at me!” Now that I’m on Day 5, I’m sitting here saying, “Oh, fuck, is this what everyone else does and I’m just the idiot who doesn’t know how to adult?”

To be fair, I did write this book.

I was reminded of a conversation I had with my dad a few years ago when he was mocking my generation for not knowing certain skills.

“I read the other day that millennials are signing up for ‘adulting’ classes to learn how to do basic household skill,” my dad said, rolling his eyes.

“I mean, I might be interested in signing up for some of those,” I said. “I could use help folding a fitted sheet.”

If you can fold a fitted sheet on the first try, you should be tried for witchcraft.

“How do you not know how to fold a fitted sheet?” my dad asked, shocked.

“I don’t know, I guess my parents never taught me,” I said.

That shut him up pretty quickly.

Take that, septuagenarian who raised me and loves me unconditionally! I showed you!

I’m not entirely blaming my dad for my inadequacies in folding a fitted sheet (and, for the record, I watched a YouTube video so now I can sort of do it instead of just balling it up and shoving it into a closet). My dad is a boomer and since that falls under the umbrella of housework, I think he might have assumed my mother taught me (but she didn’t. Her version of teaching was to just tell me as a child to do something I’d never done, not give me any instructions or guidance, and punish me when I didn’t intrinsically know how to do something she’d been taught to do decades ago).

Pictured: my childhood with my mother.

My dad, on the other hand, is a really good parent and he taught me a lot of other life skills, including basic car maintenance, managing finances, and some cooking.

Cooking bacon is an essential life skill and I will not be convinced otherwise.

My dad is also very supportive. When I jumped on the bandwagon and baked quarantine bread like everyone else and posted a photo on social media to get credit, he called me and told me how impressed he was that I can do things like bake bread from scratch.

Gratuitous bread photo as proof that I’m amazing.

Now I’m faced with the reality that because I didn’t learn basic organization and tidying skills when I was younger, it took me until I was in my thirties to realize that maybe something was wrong and I should make an attempt to correct the issue. Am I just this sucky of an adult? I know I literally wrote the book about not being an adult, but I intended that as a humorous, hyperbolic way of exploring imposter syndrome. But, here I am now, getting called out by my own work five years later.


I’m more than a little embarrassed by the revelation, but at least I get to be embarrassed in my very clean house. Maybe I need to take up a new hobby to distract me…

Found it!

Day 6: Chaos and Creativity

Click here to support me on Patreon and receive writing tips, prompts, and exclusive content available only to patrons! 

I can’t guarantee that supporting me on Patreon will cause you to have endless good hair days . . . but I can’t guarantee that it won’t either.

Posted in adulting, Challenges, featured, General, Lifestyle

The 1950s Housewife Challenge: Day 4

Two weeks ago, my 74-year-old father called and told me that he’d fallen and broken his leg in three places. By the time he called me, he was already in the hospital and they were planning on operating the following morning. He’d had another health scare back in November, so I was extremely worried for him, but surgery went well. In order to make sure everything stayed in place post-surgery, he had to have a metal cage put around his leg with pins going into his skin to hold the bones where they were supposed to be. Icky, but sure, fine. After my son had his heart transplant, he was brought back to his room with his chest still open (covered with surgical saran wrap) and it stayed open for a few days–I’m not super squeamish about medical stuff. The plan was to wait for the swelling to go down and then the doctor would operate again and remove the cage/stabby apparatus. But, in the meantime, the doctors didn’t want my dad to stay in the hospital because there’s a global pandemic going on.

Despite what the idiotic governor of my state thinks.
Get fucked, Ducey, you ignorant potato.

So, since my dad can’t care for himself at home right now due to his leg being in a medical bear trap, the doctors sent him to an assisted living facility. A week ago, my dad called and told me that the facility had three positive test results for COVID-19. Then, the call I was dreading came last night a couple of hours after I wrote yesterday’s post–my dad tested positive for COVID-19.

All things considered, he’s doing well. He doesn’t currently have any symptoms other than a positive test result and he was transferred to another facility. Which is good news so far, but I’m going to be honest–I’m a little freaked out right now. I’m very worried about him and I hate feeling helpless.

Who knew my saving grace was going to come in the form of a ridiculous cleaning challenge? Certainly not me.

By deciding to continue to push forward with this challenge, cleaning the house (and deep cleaning the living room) kept me occupied today. Plus, since I’ve been doing routine maintenance all week, today didn’t feel that bad in terms of time or effort because I was just doing small things to keep my house clean and I wasn’t starting from scratch. Or I was distracted due to the effort of trying not to think about my dad and all the scary “what ifs” I’m not ready to deal with yet. That’s not to say I’m trying to ignore my feelings, but cleaning like a 1950s housewife kept me from lying in bed all day in a depressive state while binging multiple seasons of America’s Next Top Model and eating my weight in junk food.

I have really solid coping mechanisms.

This isn’t to say that I didn’t do anything practical to help me process what’s going on–Jon and I met with our therapist via video chat today, and Jon and I have also talked a lot about my dad one-on-one. Right now, I’m exhausted. The house looks great, I did the therapy thing, and I even drank more water today than I have any other day this week.

via Tumblr

On the plus side, the designated deep clean weekly chores have all been completed for this week, according to the challenge schedule. Since I have a “free day” of sorts for tomorrow, I’m planning on using it to deep clean the laundry room. Then maybe I’ll finally lose my mind and bake myself into a pie.

Me @ 2020

If I’ve totally bummed you out with this post because you were expecting the introspective, feminist analysis I promised yesterday…my bad. In its place, please enjoy the new music video from Michael Franti & Spearhead for his song “This is How We Living” which is one of the only things that held me together today.

Day 5: …everyone else already knows how to adult, don’t they?

Click here to support me on Patreon and receive writing tips, prompts, and exclusive content available only to patrons! 

I can’t guarantee that supporting me on Patreon will cause you to have endless good hair days . . . but I can’t guarantee that it won’t either.

Posted in adulting, Challenges, General, Lifestyle

The 1950s Housewife Challenge: Day 1

I’m (almost) done with Day 1 and holy crap am I exhausted. I think I figured out why women didn’t have any rights in the 1950s–you can’t fight the patriarchy if you’re fucking exhausted from doing eight million daily loads of laundry (and no, I’m not exaggerating that number. I’m offended you’d even suggest that).

exaggerate 1

Day 1 got off to a bit of a rocky start. I’m not a great sleeper at the best of times, and last night my brain decided that I needed to stay awake until the sun started to rise because why the fuck not? It got to the point where I was lying in bed, wide awake, wondering if I’d reached a new stage of human evolution to where I didn’t need sleep. Either that, or I was about to become Al Pacino in Insomnia.

I’m sure this is going to turn out just fine.

Then I finally passed out and got a late start to my day, which is exactly how you want to feel when embarking on a new project. I did my usual homeschool stuff with Kiddo and then I decided to tackle the challenge. Things started out pretty well and I was feeling great about the progress I was seeing in the house. Was it perfect? No, but it was cleaner! The house felt brighter! Everything was better!

And then I started on the “weekly” task of deep cleaning the bedrooms.

Our bedroom wasn’t even that dirty, but scrubbing every little nook and cranny still took forever. At one point, Jon walked in as I was taking down the curtains to wash them.

“You’re washing the curtains?” he asked. “Why, are we moving?”

“It’s on the list!” I screeched in a totally normal tone of voice. He backed away slowly, making sure to never turn his back on me.

Similar to the way you should never turn your back on a tiger.
Or Carol Baskin.

I took care of our bedroom before moving on to Kiddo’s room, which went a little faster once I’d gotten the hang of everything and didn’t have to keep checking my to do list. Overall it was fine, but I have now become aware of exactly how many linens we actually have in our house. Before today, I thought decorative pillows were kind of nice because I’m a basic bitch and Target owns my soul. Now, after having to wash them all goddamn day, I’m thinking they’re a gigantic waste of time and space. It’s 9PM as I’m writing this and the washer and dryer are still running, which is really cutting into my instructions to “enjoy an evening of relaxation.”


As anticipated, I chose to ignore a few of the daily tasks that pertain to me being polite and dolled up at the end of the day. I’m still wearing leggings and my “Filthy Mouthed Wife” t-shirt instead of changing into something more “festive” for the evening, but I did, as promised, make sure I was wearing deodorant so Jon would be more inclined to want to sit by me on the couch while we re-watch old seasons of Survivor.


As I lay draped across the couch, exhausted from scrubbing nooks and crannies I didn’t know existed in the bedrooms, I told Jon I was supposed to “greet him gayly” at the end of his workday.

“Does that just mean you’re going to say hello while you do awkward finger guns?” he asked.

He knows me well.

Even though I’ve spent the bulk of this post whining about how tired I am, I’m overall pleased with how today went for Day 1 of this challenge. The house feels cleaner and enjoying it now in the evening while I wait for the laundry to finish feels kind of like a reward. It’s not like our house was a disaster area before this; with an immunocompromised kid, things are generally pretty clean around here. But because I spent the bulk of my day cleaning, it does feel kind of nice to enjoy the house in its current state. However, other than doing school stuff with Kiddo earlier, I had absolutely no room in my day for anything else. But, that being said, hopefully I’ve worn myself out enough so I’ll actually get some sleep tonight.


Day 2: Ugh, bathrooms.

Click here to support me on Patreon and receive writing tips, prompts, and exclusive content available only to patrons! 

I can’t guarantee that supporting me on Patreon will cause you to have endless good hair days . . . but I can’t guarantee that it won’t either.

Posted in adulting, Entertainment, featured, Lifestyle, Sports

Country Heat: Week 2

Country Heat: Week 1

Despite being crushed by my own whiteness, I kept going through week 2 of the country music workouts. This week’s routines were called things like “Down and Dirty” and “Bring the Heat” which make me both sad and a little hungry for some hot wings.

My need for exercise is probably self-explanatory at this point.

Day 1

On Sunday of last week, I took the prescribed rest day. I expected to start the workouts again on Monday feeling refreshed and strong, but instead I felt like I was on the first day of this 30 day challenge. I was gasping for air, crawling on my knees for my water bottle, and wondering for the thousandth time why I want to be in shape when watching Gilmore Girls reruns requires absolutely no effort whatsoever.

I should order a pizza.

Continue reading “Country Heat: Week 2”