True Confession: I don’t clean my house. I used to. When I was home with babies, my house was clean, clean, clean. Ceilings to floorboards. Windows and the inside of the basement freezer. I also used to cook real meals and watch the Today Show and sleep more than five hours a night... Not so much anymore. In fact, not at all anymore. If something spills or somebody pukes or we butcher a wildebeest in the kitchen and it sprays blood and guts everywhere, then MAYBE I’ll bust out the mop.

I’m a lucky, lucky girl though. Every so often when she is embarrassed to be related to me and fears for the health and wellbeing of her grandchildren, my mother sends her cleaning people over to my house to give it the once over. Barring the spill/puke/butcher scenario, I tend to look at a pile of dust or a grungy-looking side table and go, “Eh. It can wait until they come next time.” Some people call this kind of behavior “Laziness” or “Irresponsibility” or “Disgusting.” I choose to call this kind of behavior “Prioritizing.” As in, “I’d rather do something other than clean right now.”

I do, and by “I” I mean, “We,” do the dishes. And I’ve been known to wipe down a sticky countertop. And sometimes I even wash my hands. My daughter, who is clearly not my own genetic offspring which is confusing because I was pretty sure I was there when they yanked her out of me, likes to clean. When she’s feeling domestic, I hand her a squirt bottle and a rag and send her in the direction of that which is the most violated by fingerprints.

I admit that I leave out the bleach-laden and chemically-corrupted cleaners for the once a month visit by the cleaning people. I delude comfort myself, however, with the knowledge than on those rare occasions when someone in my house is doing this thing called “cleaning,” we are using safe and effective products.

I love Mrs. Meyer’s Clean Day. I use the dish soap, the counter spray, the window cleaner, the hand soap, and the all-purpose cleaner. It comes in a bunch of different flavors…er, scents. I like the Iowa Pine, which smells exactly like Christmas trees, but that’s only carried seasonally. The geranium is another favorite, although you can’t really go wrong with any of the options: basil, lavender, lemon verbena, baby blossom. The products are all cruelty-free, all natural, and biodegradable. If you sign up at the website to receive emails right now, (http://www.mrsmeyers.com/Default.aspx) you can get $5 off an order of $25.

Listen up, yo. None of what I write here in See Jane Shop is the consequence of any solicitation by any of these companies or products or services. This is just stuff I like. I haven’t made any deals to get compensated. Having said that, I like to consider myself a PR friendly person. If you have something you want me to review, I’m happy to do it. In that case, I’ll disclose that the review was solicited, and everyone will be happy.

My feet are enigmatic.

They have great potential, but rarely live up to it. When they are clean and smooth and tended to, my feet are my favorite part of my body.

In winter, however, after they’ve been hidden away and virtually ignored save the cursory scrubbing in the daily shower, they are the stuff of monster legend.

I develop calluses on my heels so thick that you can stick a straight pin a good ¼” in before I’ll feel it. The calluses occasionally crack and bleed and are painful. The top layer of skin on my feet has the consistency of the rawhide my dog chews on and could be a reasonable substitute for 40-grit sandpaper. It’s not a good scene.

Two products rescue my feet from hideosity. Yes, I know that’s not a word. If you had seen my feet last week, though, you might place a call to Mr. Webster. The first of these miracle workers is this:

AmLactin Moisturizing Body Cream is decidedly NOT glamorous. You won’t see any movie stars hawking it, and it doesn’t turn up on the shelves of any of the finest stores. It is, nevertheless, the only lotion I’ve ever used that can soften the concrete that the skin on my winter feet becomes.

This, also, saves the day:

I’m Not Really A Waitress, by OPI is my winter toenail color. In the spring and summer I wear Cajun Shrimp, also by OPI.

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And behold the evidence.

Before:

After:

I have too much stuff. WAY too much stuff.

Sometimes I wonder if my stuff accumulation is really just a subconscious excuse for me to acquire more bags to hold said stuff.

Could be. Something to investigate.

Meanwhile…lots of stuff means lots of bags. And as is so often the case except for when we’re talking about asses or debt, bigger is better.

I have specific and inflexible rules about what styles of bag I like, and “canvas” and “durable” do not usually feature significantly in the description. Sometimes, though, fine Italian hand stitched leather isn’t going to cut it.

Hence? Your basic L.L. Bean Boat and Tote bag comes in a vast array of colors and sizes, and I recommend that everyone have a few of these around for last minute Holy Hell Shove Some Stuff in A Bag We’re Late For Lacrosse Practice moments. The extra large zip top jumbo bag, however, is a must for any household. You need one. Here’s why:

• You can put all the crap that has built up in your car oh come on, you know it’s there – wrappers, cans, bottles, papers, old gum, dog leashes, broken pencils, old lipstick, coffee cups – in the bag and put the bag in the trunk and it looks like your car is clean even though you are actually schlepping enough garbage to fill a dumpster.
• Your mother in law is coming over and bringing the priest who married you who she ran into at the grocery store and who really wants to see you and your new house which you keep saying you’ll invite her to see even though you moved in three years ago so it’s not really new anymore and the living room is trashed. Shove it all the in the bag. Bag in closet. Done. Welcome!
• You are an English teacher who has realized too late that the better career choice would have been Health and Phys. Ed which necessitates ONE research paper a year as opposed to daily homeworks and an essay a week and let us not forget about tests and quizzes.
• You can carry an ill-mannered or particularly sleepy child or perhaps a tiny adult in one of these. You can! Not that I’ve done it. But I could. If I needed to. And so could you. And I wouldn’t judge you.
• Company is coming to stay and you are forced to relocate your husband’s secret porn collection due to your guests’ children’s tendency to find the most inconvenient hiding places imaginable while playing hide and seek with your children. And yeah, I know…it’s probably time to edit the collection. Preaching to the choir.
• Save the planet! Put your groceries in one of these so you don’t have to find yet another place to shove those plastic bags that you think you’ll use to pick up dog poop but instead you trained your dog to poop in the neighbor’s pachysandra so you don’t have to clean it up in the yard. Of course, if you shop like I shop, you’ll give yourself a hernia trying to carry all your groceries in here at once – not that they wouldn’t fit.
• Laundry.
• Should someone appear at your door with airline tickets and the offer to watch your house/family/dogs/car for a week while you go to Europe providing you can pack in ten minutes, you can put everything in here and go. If this happens, please call me and tell me because I could really use this. I like Europe.
• Four pairs of ice skates, two sweaters, four pairs of gloves, three hats, two scarves, a spare pair of socks, two juice boxes, a camera, and a box of Girl Scout Cookies all fit in here. Want proof?
• And, finally, imagine the number of Hershey’s kisses you could fit in one of these suckers.