Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Ok, so if you happen to stop by my house these days, it looks like a museum shop and an old lady's basement just exploded and had trinket babies everywhere. Amassing work samples + pulling out all the business for the bazaar + little wadded up paper towels covered in Goo Gone = a whole lot of chaos jammed into 1,000 square feet. And oh! The boxes! Our entire back hallway is waist deep in boxes. I have half a mind to give them to the guy who lives in under the viaduct down the street, but he's had one too many trashcan fire get out of control this winter. On this point I'm serious. The whole right side of the underpass is now sooty black, and I smell like a campfire every time I pass through. I'm afraid someone's bound to get hurt, whether it's Mr. Resident, some tragic Metra riders or some innocent Urban Remains shoppers.
Anywhoodle, in prepping for the bazaar, I attempted to take two boiled-wool blankets to the drycleaner last night, so they would be all clean and fresh for their (potential) new homes. The lovely lady working (shout out to Wicker Park Cleaners) helpfully informed me that I could wash the blankets in my very! own! machine! The trick is to use lukewarm then cold water and let the machine fill up with soap and water before adding the blanket.
Thanks, buddy! Such a great moneymaking tip. BUT. And there always is a pretty big one, isn't there? I have to hang them up to line dry, which means I'll be adding wet animal smell to the lovely melange of crap I have going on right now. Lemons to lemonade: Will it be a dietary aid?
Welp, the first blanket is set to come out of the washer right now. If anyone's interested, I can provide updates on shrinkage and/or stinkage.
* If it has to look like a shop, these pictures are what I really, really wish my house looked like maintenant (via Design*Sponge).