How to Beat the Corporations at Their Own Game.

Children. In case your father and I are dead and you are forced to live on your own without telling any adults about your predicament, rather than risk being separated in the state's foster care system, I have some important advice for you.

When washing the clothes, please note that the corporations that make laundry detergent try to trick you into using far more than you need for a single load by making caps much larger than a "single serving" of detergent.

Proof: this diagram included (in a very out-of-the-way place) on the back of a detergent bottle.


So save yourselves some serious money. Only use a fraction of the detergent, and get your clothes just as clean.


Another way to feel as if you are beating corporations at their own game is to put on pajamas and drink a beer in the middle of the afternoon, while rereading a favorite novel, even though you feel as if you should read one of the thousands of great novels that you haven't yet read.


I don't know if this has any actual effect on the corporations, but I'll let you know as more research becomes available.

Why Music Can Be Dangerous.

Children, you may think of music as a magical, otherworldly gift brought to us by the gods of wind and rhythm. And that's mostly true. But it's important for you to know that music also has a darker side.


For example, if a person put on some South African jazz while she was folding the laundry of a Saturday morning and found herself so energized by the melody that she couldn't help but dance along, that would be all right.



But if that melody then inspired her to twirl around and around, she would become queasy, a feeling that could linger all day, thus minimizing her ability to comparison-shop for produce and dairy-free condiments and prolonging the period of time in which she sauntered around in her striped pajamas.

So just keep your eyes out for these situations, children. Forewarned is forearmed.

Your Father's Filing System.

While I must admit that I hope you children have not inherited my utter, shocking lack of tidiness, I equally hope that you do not inherit the filing system your father uses to organize his clothes. At first glance, it seems simple: dirty clothes go in the hamper. What could possibly be odd or confusing about that?

But a second glance reveals that, in order to earn a place in the "dirty clothes" hamper, these garments must first go through an elaborate descent into soiledness.

Slightly worn clothes are hung on the back of his closet door.

When they have acquired a bit more grime, they're moved to the hooks on the back of the bedroom door.

Beyond that, I'm not willing to investigate. Because there are only about three pieces of clothing in that hamper. And he hasn't used the washing machine in weeks.

Consider yourselves warned.

It's the Little Things (and the Big Things).

My week home alone included a number of ups and downs excitment-wise, and I must share with you one of the ultimate highs. A couple weeks ago, I lost my last long bobby pin, which had been the cornerstone of my coiffure. Without it, I was left scrambling to pin back my hair with dozens of short, stubby pins, and the results were mediocre at best.

But this week, while pulling clothes out of the washing machine, I FOUND IT!

Here you can see it beside a normal bobby pin, to get an idea of scale. And don't think I'm being overly frugal on this one. I have tried to buy more long pins, but I just can't find them. So cue the Hallelujah chorus, children. Mama's doing her hair!