Room-Cleaning
Jul. 14th, 2008 12:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tanarillMy room, not to put to fine a point on it, is a mess. I will probably grow up into one of those little old ladies with houses full of stuff and little paths through the clutter, but not because I'm a compulsive buyer. I'm really not; my shopping philosophy is something like, "put it off until you can't any more, and then buy exactly what I need and be in and out of the store as quickly as possible." I have the other problem. Yeah, that one. I don't throw things away.
MW, however, does. Not a lot of things, you understand, because in this house the only things that get thrown away are those that can't be recycled, composted, donated, used in some other capacity, or resold. But my room is full of . . . well, junk. Things I keep for no real reason and which fall into one or more of the above categories. Like the wooden boards that I punched until they broke. They might be useful to my father for propping things up, but they could also be composted. And so on.
So the plan for this summer is to go through a bit of my room every week and remove everything that I no longer wear, use, or need. We started last night by cleaning about half my floor. Kinda. The floor was occupied by the Huje Cold Water Wash Pile o' DHOOM, which a basket easily cleaned up, a pile of hangers which don't fit in my overstuffed closet right now and are in temporary storage until they do, and the Bix Cardboard Box. The BCB is big. I mean, big. Taller than I am big. And mostly empty, with my not-nice painting-things clothings at the bottom, which I use for Habitat Builds. The box is in my room until Thursday. And then it will look like progress has occurred, instead of progress simply having occurred.
And maybe I will learn how to tell the difference between useful stuff and junk and also how to toss the latter.
Title: Maru-Raba
Fandom: Taming of the Shrew
Rating: G
Warnings: Snipyness
The next day was, in many ways, the most trying. They both gotten some sleep, but one of them had to always be on guard that Petruchio was lecturing at Katharina whenever anyone else was around, and Petruchio's men could move very quietly indeed. Still, they had neither one had enough sleep and Katharina had no trouble feigning exhaustion.
Also, as she had not by that morning eaten more than a few cold meat rolls in the last twenty-four hours, she was ravenous. As Franca had pointed out, though, going hungry a day wouldn't kill her and the best lie is one backed by truth. So, pretending to escape a Petruchio who'd finally "dozed off," she stumbled down to the kitchen for some food.
Grumio played what he probably thought was cruel trick on her, and Katharina thought to herself, he's easily amused, even as she hit him the way a shrew would. Hitting his face was like hitting a brick wall.
Her hand still hurt when Petruchio walked in, carrying with him a tray. She nearly laughed and ruined the whole thing when she saw the porridge-like glop it contained. Whatever Petruchio was, he was nothing like his mother when it came to culinary arts. Still, after he'd "forced" a thanks out of her, she dug in and found that he could throw together an edible stew. Hortensio, who had probably come to see how the new couple was doing, undoubtedly thought that he was lying about having cooked it himself, but ate it readily enough even so.
Once she was done, it was time for the entire farce with the gown, only-
Well, the cap was fine, even if the stitching could have been done better. She'd have to get in to Verona soon and go shopping for a new tailor. Petruchio's was fine for the interim, she thought, placing the cap on her head.
But the gown! She had absolutely no doubt that Petruchio thought it was good. It was made of rich velvet, shot through with purple, stitched with gold threads and sewn with little pearls. It would certainly fit her with a little extra fitting. It was heinously expensive, and even among her father's crowd that might have been enough. With Katharina, there was nothing to excuse the dress, ever because for all the wealth, it had this problem:
It was in the worst taste she'd ever seen.
And she didn't doubt that there were tailors who could make the same combination of materials, in the same proportions, something pleasing to the eye, either. She'd gone through half the tailors in Padua before finding one who could match her demands, but even Bianca had admitted that she'd never give her patronage to another. Definitely going to Verona soon. And explaining to Petruchio that "rich" and "tasteful" were two very different but not necessarily mutually exclusive things.
Petruchio was going on about how the dress was entirely unsuitable for her. She agreed entirely, and had to pretend she didn't. Someone, she thought nastily, someone that she didn't like, was going to be gifted with a very fine and entirely garish dress in the near future.
Grumio was going through how thedress had been ordered. The tailor was claiming innocence of the awfulness of the thing. Privately, Katharina decided that if they had been in competition to make an ugly gown, they could have done no better than this.
Right about the time Katharina was deciding this, Grumio redeemed himself by making a fool of Petruchio. Not the gown for him, indeed! And, when she looked at Petruchio, his eyes had crinkled up in that way they did when he was couldn't show that he was smiling. Hortensio was trying not to laugh. And then, so quickly that she might have missed it, Hortensio was the one who was suddenly to pay for the thing. That's why he keeps Grumio around, she thought. People are stupid when they're laughing, and he's good at making people laugh.
The funny thing was, though no one noticed, that it was closer to noon than two or seven when they started arguing about the time. Or at least, Hortensio didn't notice. Petruchio's men almost certainly knew how to tell time without a clocktower, and while Katharina relied on the bells for her hours, she knew exactly how far or near the next bell was. For a moment, she experienced the feeling that Petruchio's men were in on it, or at least in on something that involved laughing at Hortensio. Then it passed, and Petruchio was dragging her off to give Hortensio the full tour.
Sooner rather than later, she thought, she'd have to ask about Juliano.
Why yes, Katharina is a sly and manipulative bitch. Who has very good taste, something that few contemporaries had. I should also point out that making a dress out of velvet for the summer months (which is when I'm setting this) is a really stupid thing to do. You'd die of heatstroke. Silk is much better.
MW, however, does. Not a lot of things, you understand, because in this house the only things that get thrown away are those that can't be recycled, composted, donated, used in some other capacity, or resold. But my room is full of . . . well, junk. Things I keep for no real reason and which fall into one or more of the above categories. Like the wooden boards that I punched until they broke. They might be useful to my father for propping things up, but they could also be composted. And so on.
So the plan for this summer is to go through a bit of my room every week and remove everything that I no longer wear, use, or need. We started last night by cleaning about half my floor. Kinda. The floor was occupied by the Huje Cold Water Wash Pile o' DHOOM, which a basket easily cleaned up, a pile of hangers which don't fit in my overstuffed closet right now and are in temporary storage until they do, and the Bix Cardboard Box. The BCB is big. I mean, big. Taller than I am big. And mostly empty, with my not-nice painting-things clothings at the bottom, which I use for Habitat Builds. The box is in my room until Thursday. And then it will look like progress has occurred, instead of progress simply having occurred.
And maybe I will learn how to tell the difference between useful stuff and junk and also how to toss the latter.
Title: Maru-Raba
Fandom: Taming of the Shrew
Rating: G
Warnings: Snipyness
The next day was, in many ways, the most trying. They both gotten some sleep, but one of them had to always be on guard that Petruchio was lecturing at Katharina whenever anyone else was around, and Petruchio's men could move very quietly indeed. Still, they had neither one had enough sleep and Katharina had no trouble feigning exhaustion.
Also, as she had not by that morning eaten more than a few cold meat rolls in the last twenty-four hours, she was ravenous. As Franca had pointed out, though, going hungry a day wouldn't kill her and the best lie is one backed by truth. So, pretending to escape a Petruchio who'd finally "dozed off," she stumbled down to the kitchen for some food.
Grumio played what he probably thought was cruel trick on her, and Katharina thought to herself, he's easily amused, even as she hit him the way a shrew would. Hitting his face was like hitting a brick wall.
Her hand still hurt when Petruchio walked in, carrying with him a tray. She nearly laughed and ruined the whole thing when she saw the porridge-like glop it contained. Whatever Petruchio was, he was nothing like his mother when it came to culinary arts. Still, after he'd "forced" a thanks out of her, she dug in and found that he could throw together an edible stew. Hortensio, who had probably come to see how the new couple was doing, undoubtedly thought that he was lying about having cooked it himself, but ate it readily enough even so.
Once she was done, it was time for the entire farce with the gown, only-
Well, the cap was fine, even if the stitching could have been done better. She'd have to get in to Verona soon and go shopping for a new tailor. Petruchio's was fine for the interim, she thought, placing the cap on her head.
But the gown! She had absolutely no doubt that Petruchio thought it was good. It was made of rich velvet, shot through with purple, stitched with gold threads and sewn with little pearls. It would certainly fit her with a little extra fitting. It was heinously expensive, and even among her father's crowd that might have been enough. With Katharina, there was nothing to excuse the dress, ever because for all the wealth, it had this problem:
It was in the worst taste she'd ever seen.
And she didn't doubt that there were tailors who could make the same combination of materials, in the same proportions, something pleasing to the eye, either. She'd gone through half the tailors in Padua before finding one who could match her demands, but even Bianca had admitted that she'd never give her patronage to another. Definitely going to Verona soon. And explaining to Petruchio that "rich" and "tasteful" were two very different but not necessarily mutually exclusive things.
Petruchio was going on about how the dress was entirely unsuitable for her. She agreed entirely, and had to pretend she didn't. Someone, she thought nastily, someone that she didn't like, was going to be gifted with a very fine and entirely garish dress in the near future.
Grumio was going through how thedress had been ordered. The tailor was claiming innocence of the awfulness of the thing. Privately, Katharina decided that if they had been in competition to make an ugly gown, they could have done no better than this.
Right about the time Katharina was deciding this, Grumio redeemed himself by making a fool of Petruchio. Not the gown for him, indeed! And, when she looked at Petruchio, his eyes had crinkled up in that way they did when he was couldn't show that he was smiling. Hortensio was trying not to laugh. And then, so quickly that she might have missed it, Hortensio was the one who was suddenly to pay for the thing. That's why he keeps Grumio around, she thought. People are stupid when they're laughing, and he's good at making people laugh.
The funny thing was, though no one noticed, that it was closer to noon than two or seven when they started arguing about the time. Or at least, Hortensio didn't notice. Petruchio's men almost certainly knew how to tell time without a clocktower, and while Katharina relied on the bells for her hours, she knew exactly how far or near the next bell was. For a moment, she experienced the feeling that Petruchio's men were in on it, or at least in on something that involved laughing at Hortensio. Then it passed, and Petruchio was dragging her off to give Hortensio the full tour.
Sooner rather than later, she thought, she'd have to ask about Juliano.
Why yes, Katharina is a sly and manipulative bitch. Who has very good taste, something that few contemporaries had. I should also point out that making a dress out of velvet for the summer months (which is when I'm setting this) is a really stupid thing to do. You'd die of heatstroke. Silk is much better.
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Date: 2008-07-14 11:18 pm (UTC)