#Vacuum Glove Boxes

[cleatechlaboratory]

Vacuum Glove Box: Creating a Controlled Environment for Delicate Operations

Cleatech is a trusted provider of vacuum glove boxes designed to create a controlled environment for delicate operations in various industries. With our expertise in cleanroom solutions, we offer innovative and reliable vacuum glove boxes that maintain low oxygen and moisture levels, protecting sensitive materials and processes. Our vacuum glove boxes are widely used in industries such as electronics, semiconductor manufacturing, research laboratories, and pharmaceuticals.

Precise Control of Oxygen and Moisture Levels

Cleatech vacuum glove boxes provide precise control of oxygen and moisture levels within the workspace. The vacuum environment eliminates oxygen and moisture, preventing oxidation, moisture damage, and contamination of sensitive materials. Our glove boxes are equipped with high-performance vacuum pumps and gas purification systems that effectively remove oxygen and moisture, creating an ultra-low humidity and oxygen atmosphere. This controlled environment ensures the integrity and quality of delicate processes and materials.

Durable Construction and Versatile Configurations

Cleatech vacuum glove boxes are built with durable materials to withstand the vacuum environment and provide long-lasting performance. We use high-quality materials such as stainless steel or chemical-resistant acrylic to ensure durability and compatibility with cleanroom requirements. The glove boxes can be customized to meet specific workspace layouts and processes, offering various sizes and configurations. We can integrate additional features such as antistatic materials, adjustable shelves, and access ports to accommodate specific requirements.

Operator Safety and Comfort

Cleatech vacuum glove boxes prioritize operator safety and comfort during delicate operations. Our glove boxes feature ergonomic glove ports that provide easy and comfortable access to the workspace. The gloves are made of high-quality materials to ensure a secure and airtight seal, allowing operators to perform tasks without compromising the controlled environment. Additionally, we provide options for integrated safety features such as gas leak detectors and pressure sensors to enhance operator safety and alert users to any anomalies.

Easy Operation and Maintenance

Cleatech vacuum glove boxes are designed for easy operation and maintenance. The glove boxes feature user-friendly controls and interfaces for convenient use. We provide detailed instructions and necessary documentation to guide users through installation, operation, and maintenance processes. Regular maintenance, such as filter replacement and system checks, ensures the continuous effectiveness of the glove boxes. We offer support and guidance for maintenance tasks to ensure optimal performance and longevity.

Conclusion

Cleatech vacuum glove boxes provide a controlled environment for delicate operations in various industries. With our focus on precise control of oxygen and moisture levels, durable construction, versatile configurations, operator safety and comfort, and easy operation and maintenance, our vacuum glove boxes meet the stringent requirements of modern workspaces. Contact Cleatech todayto discuss your vacuum glove box needs and experience the quality and reliability of our products.

Original Sources: https://laboratoryquipment.blogspot.com/2023/05/vacuum-glove-box-creating-controlled.html

[raeloganthesonic06fangirl]

Is there anything more unsettling than your four cats staring in the same direction down the hall, only for you to later find a spider on the back of your bedroom door?

"Aww, what are you silly little guys doing over-? GREAT GOOGLY MOOGLY, IS THAT A BIG HONKIN' RECLUSE???"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 1

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Outta left field.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The brick facade stares back at you. You have to keep from gaping in awe. You're not a sightseer, you're there to work. A job. Your first ever. A bit late, but better than never.

You stop at the gate and hike up your kit as you shove your hand in your pocket in a cramped search. You slide out the flip phone and pop the top, clicking through for the email. The cheap burner is all you could afford and you needed a cell to get any sort of employment. Even just to live, it seems.

You click on the agency's email. A concise list of instructions for your first day. Alone. Last week, you shadowed a woman named Florence as she took you through an east-side home, but this week, you're on your own and uptown. The property is much nicer than any you've been in before. The sort you gaze at longingly in passing. A true urban palace.

You follow the first point on the list, keying in the code awkwardly with spaced-out punches. The last beep triggers a buzz as the mechanism releases and you turn the haandle to let yourself through the iron gate. You close it, pushing it to make sure it catches. You look around at the greenery; expertly trimmed hedges and a stone bench, flowerbeds clustered artfully in all shades. A mini Versailles in the heart of the city. The owners must be very well-off.

You gulp as you follow the stonework of the winding path along the curved driveway. Your shoulder aches from the weight of your kit and your spine is still rigid from the tense bus ride. You approach the front door and stagger to an awkward halt as you check the screen again. In all caps; DO NOT USE THE FRONT DOOR. You peer up over the stone steps and give a nod. Of course the help should go through the back.

You circle around to the rear of the house, the scent of pollen and the freshly groomed hedges clouding around you. You find the door nestled beneath a net of ivy and key in the next code. The very modern security contrasts the antique veneer of the house. You step into the silence of the grand home and listen. You're not sure if you're alone. What do you do if you aren't? It might be awkward to wash someone's floor without an introduction.

You move to the next directive; cover shoes. You squint and suck your lower lip in. You see the small box on the corner table tucked beside the door. You stay on the mat as you pull on the plastic shoe covers. It makes sense. You don't want to track in another mess to clean.

Again, your breath flies away from you. Even just the back hallway is divine, or maybe you're just brutish. You're not very hard to impress with what you're used to. A job won't cure it, but it'll make it bearable.

The next point; gloves. Okay. At least it's straightforward. The owners must be very particular. Or germaphobic. You let your assumptions write a story as you advance into the house. The email directs you to a closet where you are permitted to hang your things and where a mop, broom, and vacuum await you amid other supplies too big for your bag. Next point…

You proceed inside, slowly. The instructions are written almost to guide your every step. You move down the hallway with duster, broom, vacuum, and finally the mop. You're sweating by the time you get to the first doorway. The kitchen. Despite your employ, the place is already near immaculate. The only sign of life is a single black mug beside the sink.

It's eerie as you cross the tile, investigating with your eyes, almost too afraid to touch. You're going to have to if you mean to do good work. You continue down the list, doing your best to be thorough. When you return to the hall you're caught in place by a thought. There are no family pictures. It adds to the emptiness of it all. There are portraits of famous landmarks and imitations of reknowned artworks, though you wouldn't be surprised if they were genuine. But no family.

Next point. A bathroom just diagonal from the kitchen, spacious with dark wood and shining gold. You leave it smelling with the sterile scent of the cleaner. Back in the hall, you pause to drink from the water bottle in your bag. You head back down the hall intent on your next task. An hour already.

Another large room; a dining room that opens into a sitting room with a large fireplace. It really is amazing. Your father won't believe how nice it is here. You don't have time to worry about convincing him as you dive into your work. It isn't difficult work but you want to do a good job. You get this knot in your stomach just think of your boss, Clara, telling you otherwise or going home with bad news.

You finish the sitting room and go back to get your water. You nearly finish it. You check the time again, then the list. You can refill before you continue. You go back to the kitchen and cross to the fridge, pressing your bottle to the lever beneath the filter. It'd be nice to have something like that at home. You listen the hum of the fridge as you fill your bottle.

"Ahem," the clearing of a throat startles you and you jump, splashing yourself with cold water as you spin to face a tall man. He stares at you imperiously from the doorway, his figure lithe as he holds his chin up in dissatisfaction. "And who said you could do that?"

"Um," you swallow and look at your water bottle, fingers numbed by the water, "sorry, sir, I ran out--"

"Clean up your mess and get back to work," his lilted accent slices into you.

"Sorry, sir--"

"Bullet number one, A," he says tersely.

You frown as you struggle to understand. You replace the cap on your bottle and fish in the pocket of your black pants. You take out the phone and check the email. 'Do not speak unless permitted.' Well, he spoke to you first. It's the only reason you said anything. You're not very chatty yourself.

You keep from repeating sorry again and dip your head down. You take the cloth tucked into your pocket and bend to sop up the water from the floor. You don't look at him as he looms and you exit the room, sidling past him in shame. Oh no, you hope he doesn't tell Clara.

You replace your bottle in your bag. You'll go without. You look at your phone again. You can do this. No more mistakes.

You march back down the hall and dare a glance into the kitchen as you pass. He's already gone. That must be Mr. Laufeyson, the owner noted in the job description. Is it just him? He doesn't seem very fond of others. Or just you. You're just a maid, after all.

🧹

Your father's apartment is in the south. The fence is crooked and missing slats and the grass is patchy and yellowed. The porch groans as you climb the steps and let yourself into his side of the duplex. Cigarette smoke greets you with a cough in your throat. You open the window he shut in your absence as the TV blares in the next room. He's on the couch, puffing tobacco into the air in gray swirls. The place is even grimmer after a day amid your client's spotless halls.

"Hey dad," you say as you stand just beside the couch, "how was your day?"

He grunts and offers nothing else. That's about what you get from him. The effort of just that noise sends him to hack and his wrist tangles in his oxygen tube as brings his hand up. He knocks ash from the end of his cigarette onto the floor.

"First day alone went well," you say as he settles, breathing loudly as he tries to steady his breaths. "Think I did pretty good."

"Oh, big whoop, got a job, at last," he sneers, "about time. What're you? Thirty-three?"

"Thirty," you correct him, but don't add that your birthday is coming up.

"Same difference," he croaks and sucks on the smoke until he's coughing once more.

You try not to let him defeat you. It's just the way he is. You brought home A's from school and he wondered why they weren't A+'s. And when you got accepted to college, he asked you who was gonna pay for it. And when you filled out an application at the drive-thru window, he asked you if you were going to be another deadbeat flipping burgers.

"What, they got you scrubbing floors?" He spits, "you don't do it for free or something?"

He looks around venomously. You do clean but you can't get the yellow stains out of the wall or the stench out of the carpet. You won't say so.

"Did you eat yet?"

"Can't be near the stove with this thing," he taps the top of the tank on the other side of the armrest. He's also not supposed to smoke near it. Or at all.

"I'll heat up the hamburger helper from last night."

"Fucking dog food," he barks.

You wince. You love your father but he's a very picky man. Things must be his way or no way at all.

"Might have a frozen pizza," you suggest.

"Cardboard," he mutters.

You stand, silent and helpless. There isn't much else left in the fridge.

"Could afford better if you'd got your ass up ten years ago," he buts out his smoke and just as quickly, opens the pack to slide out another.

"I tried..."

"Not hard enough, eh," He takes off the oxygen tube and leans away from the tank to light the next cigarette, "not hungry. All your talkin' spoiled my appetite."

You apologise and leave before you can annoy him further. You're not very hungry either. Just sore and tired. Your feet hurt from being on them all day and your eyelids droop lower with each blink. You climb the stairs and drag your feet into your bedroom and shut the door gently. Your father hates when you slam. You don't like it much yourself.

You fall into bed as the musty air clings in your nose. You close your eyes and roll onto your side. You sigh. You figure if you can handle your father, you can handle Mr. Laufeyson and his list.

🧹

Your next job is in the eastside. It's not as precise or overbearing. The instructions are standard; a list of the rooms that need cleaning and a tip left on the counter. The email says the family is out of town. How nice it must be to come home to a nice, clean house. You pad out the three-day week with two more home in the northwest suburbs. The money would be better if you could work a full week but so long on you're in your probation period, you only get part-time hours.

Your second week starts again in the north, outside the Laufeyson property. The codes are different but the list is the same. You begin your work diligently. This time, you ration your water, and pay special attention to each step. Once you're through this week, you get your first check. Dad should be happy about that.

As you get to the front room, a living room or what some might call den, you set first to dusting the ornaments on the high mantel. You find the more you do it, the work is almost soothing. It's simple and mindless. You admire the silver candlestick, careful not to loosen the tall candle placed in it.

"Shiny," the slither frightens you. You quickly replace the candlestick at the corner of the mantle and face that man; the presumed Mr. Laufeyson. "Somehow, I feel it wouldn't belong in wherever you call home."

You lower your eyes. Florence says most clients are friends but she warned you about these ones. Those who deride you and the work they don't want to do themselves.

"The previous one did think they were lovely," he muses as he struts forward, his long steps like a cat's, "too bad they were too big for her bag."

You flick your gaze back up and blanch. "Sir, I wouldn't--"

He tilts his head as his eyes flash dangerously. You snap your mouth shut and give an apologetic frown. You press a finger to your lips to say, I'll be quiet.

"She was chatty too. You girls always are."

You nod and listen. Your throat constricts as you wring the cloth in your hands. You think you might not be very forgiving if someone tried to steal from you either.

"But..." he looks at his watch, "you are quick."

The comment drips from his mouth as if it tastes bitter to him. It isn't quite praise, only a fact, but it isn't a reproach. He smirks and snickers.

"And you do look rather terrified. We're understood then."

You give another nod. You think you understand. You wouldn't think to steal but you can't blame him for putting down rules. You squint and your brow twitches as your ears tinge.

"Point one C," you whisper to yourself; 'Do not steal.'

He pauses as he goes to pivot on his heel. He lifts his chin and shifts as if he might look at you. He doesn't as he carries on to the door.

"You may refill your bottle once per shift," he pauses by the door, tapping the frame before he leaves you.

You stay stuck to the floor, wavering as you watch him go. He wasn't nice, but he didn't dismiss you either. You can stomach his disapproval if it means you still have work.

[yeyinde]

thank you for tagging me @ivymarquis ! i debated between this, the regency fic (fleshed out), or one of the other Price fics i'm working on (home from college for the summer and seducing hot older neighbour Price whomst you had a crush on since sixteen (aka daddy issues, the playbook), DomPrice, etc), but i think the Soap fic will probably be finished before all of those. so, here is the baby trap piece with Soap.

nothing smutty but this def captures their odd, imbalanced dynamic perfectly, i think:

“And you have no cellphone? No satellite phone?”

“Ye can check it—” he makes a flippant motion toward the glove box in front of you. “Deader than ever.”

You hesitate only briefly. Long enough to level him with a searching look that yields no results (every expression hidden behind a thick, unruly forest of overgrown hair jutting out to his Adam's apple) before you reach for the compartment, gingerly pulling it open, and—

Sometimes, things get overlooked by their surroundings. Swallowed in the vacuum. Blending seamlessly into the muddle, the commotion. Or hidden. Can you spot the mountain lion in this tumble of rock and bush?

This isn't like that. 

It sits on top of a manila folder. Sleek black and cold silver. You're not terribly well-versed in guns—the extent of your knowledge stemming mostly from formulaic crime shows aired late at night; CSI, NCIS, Criminal Minds—but you recognise this one instantly. Some sort of handgun. Police issued, you think. It's bigger than you'd expected. Looks heavier, too. 

Your heart stutters. The air galloping out of your lungs in a stammering rush. 

He makes a noise, soft and nonchalant, as if keeping handguns in the glove box of his old, burnt umbre truck is perfectly normal. 

“Fer protection,” he mumbles. You catch the jerk of his chin in your periphery. “Forgot I had it in here. Been usin’ the rifle for huntin’ mostly. Or the shotgun.”

Three guns. You swallow. “Why—” your voice comes out in a brittle whisper. You clear your throat. Pretend it helps, that you don't feel as vulnerable as you sound right now. “Why, um, why do you need three?”

“Not fae around ‘ere, are ye?” He echoes your words from earlier with a wry twist of his mouth, eyes slanting in the sunlight. “Tha’,” he takes his hand off your thigh to jab his finger at the handgun. “Is fer wolverines.” His index finger falls, his thumb juts out. He jerks it over his shoulder. “Tha’ is fer huntin’. The shotgun back home is fer bears.” 

You try to move out of the way when his hand falls back to your thigh, but the pain radiating up your leg immobilizes you. There's not much you can do in this situation but endure.

Military. Wounded in action. Three guns. Touchy. 

You're not sure what to think. It would be easier if you couldn't. 

“What do you hunt?” You ask instead, glancing out the window to the barren landscape rolling out around you. There doesn't seem to be much in the jagged hills, towering mountains. 

“Gettin’ hungry? Donnae worry, doe. Go’ tha’ pesky hare I was tryin’ tae shoot on the ledge fer dinner tonight.” 

It's not much of a comfort. The idea of being injured—by accident, he claims—to such an extent over a rabbit makes you feel a little sick. 

“That's it?” 

“I can make a mean steak outta anythin’. Stews fer tougher meat. Fish, too—whitefish, arctic grayling, and lake trout. Learned how tae make a nasty fishfry from the locals in Nahanni Butte. Bannock, too. Got berries ‘round ma cabin. Caribou, Moose. Taste better in tacos or burgers. Mountain goat, Dall’s sheep. Been eatin’ better ‘ere than ah did at home.” 

“And you're—just allowed to hunt them?” The website advised of a permit through some special outfit needed to hunt when you requested your pass into the park. Said that only aboriginals were allowed to do so. “You're not—”

“Aye,” he cuts you off with a small nod. “No huntin’ in the park. But. We're not in the park anymore.”

“Where are we?” You ask again, firmer this time. 

“I told ye. Nearly home.”

“And where is home?” 

The way he sucks his teeth makes you recoil slightly. Wet. Irritated. As if he's tired of this conversation already. 

“Close.”

You don't let his flat tone deter you. “Are we—are we still in the Northwest Territories?”

“Thereabouts.” 

It's not an answer. It doesn't reassure you in the slightest. 

You open your mouth to say so, words curling on your tongue when he jerks his chin toward the handgun, brow furrowed. 

“Thought ye wanted tae check on the satellite phone.”

His tone is severe. A growl curdling the ends, pitching it down, down. Displeasure, irritation, blooms in the gnarled petals of witch hazel when he narrows them into slits. 

[yokohamapound]

This is very silly - but what would the reactions be of the ADA to you, a friend, abruptly crashing through the ceiling?

“Hey, Ron.” “Hey, Billy.”

Characters: Dazai Osamu, Kunikida Doppo, Nakajima Atsushi, Izumi Kyouka, Tanizaki Jun'ichirou, Edogawa Ranpo, Yosano Akiko, Fukuzawa Yukichi

Contents: gn! reader, falling through ceilings

Dazai Osamu

Dazai does a credible job of masking any surprise when you come collapsing through the ceiling. Do you know why? Because he isn’t surprised at all. He’s sitting on one of the green couches in the reception area, his headphones cupped over his ears, when the ceiling splits open and dumps you into the office.

His eyes flicker open briefly as your form rushes past him to tumble to the floor at his feet in a cascade of insulation and plaster. 

You’ll never know whether or not he deliberately loosened that board in the loft before he sent you rooting around up there for whatever obscure object he wanted from storage, but you have your suspicions, and he knows you have your suspicions. 

“Nice of you to drop in. The vacuum’s around here somewhere. Best not leave that mess or Kunikida will go through the roof, and then we’ll have a skylight.”

Kunikida Doppo

Kunikida is just trying to get through his day, to follow his schedule, and make sure that all his paperwork is filled out correctly and on time.

Imagine his despair when you crash through the ceiling tiles and land on his desk. He stiffens, then expels a deep, bone weary sigh as plaster dust settles on his shoulders and hair, making him look like he’s turning prematurely grey—which he might, at this rate.

He removes his glasses and takes out a small cloth to polish the dust off them, before placing them back on his face and pushing them back up the bridge of his nose with his fingertips.

“I presume you’re not injured?” When you assure him that you’re winded but nothing’s broken, he nods. “I’m going to have to fill out another purchase order for building repairs. I really don’t have time for this.”

Nakajima Atsushi

Poor Atsushi. He’s just minding his own business when you come crashing through into the office. His jaw falls open, but he’s only shocked for a moment. His hero complex kicks in and he throws himself forward, slamming into the ground a moment before you do and letting his own body break your fall. 

Martyr much, Atsushi?

“Are you okay?” he babbles, when you roll off him. 

He’s fussing like an old woman, trying to pat you down to make sure nothing is broken. 

“Do you need to go to the hospital? What happened?!”

Yosano Akiko

Yosano’s been with the Armed Detective Agency for long enough that she’s seen almost everything in her time. You stepping on a busted floor panel up in the lift and falling ass-over-teakettle through the ceiling?

No biggie.

She emerges from her medical room, already snapping on a pair of latex gloves with alarming efficiency. Her eyes glint.

“Oh, dear. That looks like it hurts. Shall I make it better?”

“No! No, I’m fine, just winded!”

“Now, now, you might have broken something…”

Izumi Kyouka

For all her apparently stoic, emotionless demeanour, Kyouka hasn’t lost her startle reflex. When you come tumbling in from the loft, she immediately suspects it is some kind of targeted attack from the Port Mafia, the Guild, the Rats in the Hall of the Dead, the Hunting Dogs (dude, the ADA has got to up their life-insurance policies), or even some new threat.

She launches Demon Snow into attack mode, only to realise it’s you face-planting amidst a snowdrift of broken plaster and crap from storage. 

“...”

Kyouka stares at you.

“You should be more careful.”

Gee, thanks, Kyouka.

Edogawa Ranpo

Ranpo’s been waiting for this to happen to someone ever since he noticed the hairline crack running along the ceiling plaster. The second he heard someone tell you to go upstairs and rummage through those boxes of old files, he’s been counting down the moments.

“Five, four, three, two, one…”

On cue, you come tumbling down from the attic. 

He pops a chocolate truffle into his mouth and looks over at you from his desk, where he’s lounging back in his chair with his feet up on the wooden surface. 

“Hey, now you’re down here, could you get me a soda?”

Tanizaki Jun’ichirou

It takes Tanizaki a little while to notice the ceiling bulging. He yelps when you come tumbling through, scattering paperwork and Naomi and pens everywhere.

Another graduate from the School of Martyrdom, Tanizaki’s solution is to fling himself forward to try and catch you. With mostly ends up with getting in your way and sending you to the floor in a tangle of limbs.

Naomi, seeing this, immediately rushes up to the attic to have her turn. 

Fukuzawa Yukichi

I don’t know why, but I feel like Fukuzawa is highly attuned to the sounds around him, down to the vibration of the air. He’ll feel a disturbance (in the Force) before the ceiling cracks open. Perhaps a few grains of plaster dust will trickle down and alert him to the impending disaster.

His head jerks up. He knows you were sent up into the loft/attic of the office building on some errand. It doesn’t take even his honed instincts to put two and two together.

In a blur of motion, surprisingly fast for a man of his years, he springs forward and extends his arms, snatching you from mid-fall before you can splat on the office floorboards. He holds you aloft, a stoic expression on his face as a piece of ceiling tile lands on his head and cracks apart.

“Are you well?” he asks, stern, followed by: “Did I not tell you to watch your step up there?” 

[kushblazer666]

THINGS YOUR MOTHER SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU

1. Take your bananas apart when you get home from the store. If you leave them connected at the stem, they ripen faster.

2. Store your opened chunks of cheese in aluminum foil. It will stay fresh much longer and not mold!

3. Peppers with 3 bumps on the bottom are sweeter and better for eating. Peppers with 4 bumps on the bottom are firmer and better for cooking.

4. Add a teaspoon of water when frying ground beef. It will help pull the grease away from the meat while cooking.

5. To really make scrambled eggs or omelets rich add a couple of spoonfuls of sour cream, cream cheese, or heavy cream in and then beat them up.

6. For a cool brownie treat, make brownies as directed. Melt Andes mints in double broiler and pour over warm brownies. Let set for a wonderful minty frosting.

7. Add garlic immediately to a recipe if you want a light taste of garlic and at the end of the recipe if your want a stronger taste of garlic.

8. Leftover snickers bars from Halloween make a delicious dessert. Simply chop them up with the food chopper. Peel, core and slice a few apples. Place them in a baking dish and sprinkle the chopped candy bars over the apples. Bake at 350 for 15 minutes!!! Serve alone or with vanilla ice cream. Yummm!

9. Reheat Pizza

Heat up leftover pizza in a nonstick skillet on top of the stove, set heat to med-low and heat till warm. This keeps the crust crispy. No soggy micro pizza. I saw this on the cooking channel and it really works.

10. Easy Deviled Eggs

Put cooked egg yolks in a zip lock bag. Seal, mash till they are all broken up. Add remainder of ingredients, reseal, keep mashing it up mixing thoroughly, cut the tip of the baggy, squeeze mixture into egg. Just throw bag away when done easy clean up.

11. Expanding Frosting

When you buy a container of cake frosting from the store, whip it with your mixer for a few minutes. You can double it in size. You get to frost more cake/cupcakes with the same amount. You also eat less sugar and calories per serving.

12. Reheating refrigerated bread

To warm biscuits, pancakes, or muffins that were refrigerated, place them in a microwave with a cup of water. The increased moisture will keep the food moist and help it reheat faster.

13. Newspaper weeds away

Start putting in your plants, work the nutrients in your soil. Wet newspapers, put layers around the plants overlapping as you go. Cover with mulch and forget about weeds. Weeds will get through some gardening plastic they will not get through wet newspapers.

14. Broken Glass

Use a wet cotton ball or Q-tip to pick up the small shards of glass you can't see easily.

15. No More Mosquitoes

Place a dryer sheet in your pocket. It will keep the mosquitoes away.

16. Squirrel Away!

To keep squirrels from eating your plants, sprinkle your plants with cayenne pepper. The cayenne pepper doesn't hurt the plant and the squirrels won't come near it.

17. Flexible vacuum

To get something out of a heat register or under the fridge add an empty paper towel roll or empty gift wrap roll to your vacuum. It can be bent or flattened to get in narrow openings.

18. Reducing Static Cling

Pin a small safety pin to the seam of your slip and you will not have a clingy skirt or dress. Same thing works with slacks that cling when wearing panty hose. Place pin in seam of slacks and ... guess what! ... static is gone.

19. Measuring Cups

Before you pour sticky substances into a measuring cup, fill with hot water. Dump out the hot water, but don't dry cup. Next, add your ingredient, such as peanut butter, and watch how easily it comes right out. (Or spray the measuring cup or spoon with Pam before using)

20. Foggy Windshield?

Hate foggy windshields? Buy a chalkboard eraser and keep it in the glove box of your car When the windows fog, rub with the eraser! Works better than a cloth!

21. Re-opening envelopes

If you seal an envelope and then realize you forgot to include something inside, just place your sealed envelope in the freezer for an hour or two. Viola! It unseals easily.

22. Conditioner

Use your hair conditioner to shave your legs. It's cheaper than shaving cream and leaves your legs really smooth. It's also a great way to use up the conditioner you bought but didn't like when you tried it in your hair.

spotted on the Tedooo app

23. Goodbye Fruit Flies

To get rid of pesky fruit flies, take a small glass, fill it 1/2' with Apple Cider Vinegar and 2 drops of dish washing liquid; mix well. You will find those flies drawn to the cup and gone forever!

24. Get Rid of Ants

Put small piles of cornmeal where you see ants. They eat it, take it 'home,' can't digest it so it kills them. It may take a week or so, especially if it rains, but it works and you don't have the worry about pets or small children being harmed!

[thrashkink-coven]

One of the best things about finally having freedom as an autist is the freedom to do things in ways that would be considered incorrect, or doing things that I would have been scolded for as a child.

I’m allowed to just throw all my clean laundry into a basket and not fold and put it away. Like who cares. If I can find my clothes then whatever

I’m allowed to vacuum anything, including my countertops, cupboards, even the inside of my fridge, if i’m too overstimulated to wipe them down right now.

I don’t have to floss every day, once a week is better than never , and I can wipe myself down with baby wipes if a full shower is too much right now

and speaking of wiping down, I can use as much paper towel as I want. I’m the one paying for it now so it doesn’t matter.

I’m allowed to wear cleaning gloves whenever I want, even if it’s just to touch something yucky.

and those snacks I bought, I’m allowed to eat them at 3am on the balcony if I want to, I’m also allowed to shower at 3am. I can go on a walk around the block at 3am too. Im allowed to go anywhere I want whenever I want. I can sit in the grass and play with my toys. I CAN HAVE TOYS!!! I’m allowed to PLAY video games loudly! I can invite my friends over whenever I want, and I can make them leave whenever I want.

And I’m allowed to open multiple boxes of cereal and mix them together. I’m allowed to drink hot chocolate as many times in a day as I want. I’m allowed to drink juice straight from the jug.

I’m allowed to put my food in a pot instead of a bowl because they’re all dirty right now. Im allowed to eat with a spatula instead of a spoon. I’m allowed to throw away dirty dishes that are just too gross for me to clean. Who cares if I break or throw away a $3 bowl? I can get a new one.

I’m allowed to start tasks and not complete them immediately. I washed half of the dishes and then felt overwhelmed, I’m allowed to stop and do something else. I’ll come back to it. At least 50% of the task is done now.

I can move my furniture around whenever I want. I can put a tv in my bathroom if I want to. I can put a couch in the kitchen to sit on when I’m slightly too overstimmed to stand and make food. I can cover my ceiling in stars and banners. I can decorate however I want. I can write the word FUCK on the wall.

I can wear whatever I want without being nervous my parents will see me. I can bleach my eyebrows, buzz my hair, wear black lipstick and get my face pierced and it won’t be a big deal.

The only meals I make are ones I know I love, I’m not forced to eat things I hate anymore, and Im allowed to throw out half of my meal if I don’t want it without feeling bad.

Im allowed to put posters up without being scared of chipping the dry wall. I can draw all over my walls with washable marker. I can draw all over the floor with chalk.

I’m free to live and do the things that make me feel good. All of the pressure and obligation is gone now. When I was a kid, I was terrified of growing up and having to take care of myself. The truth is that I always was taking care of myself. The adults around me convinced me that it would be miserable and impossible, but they were so wrong. Freedom truly is bliss.

[crookedkryptonitebeliever]

in your earlier ask you said that yves is pretty much anti child so is he also anti pet? or maybe anti puppy/kitten/baby animal? when you described yves pretty much conditioning reader to dislike kids it reminded me when i got my kitten when she was three weeks old. it was during the lockdown so although i was there 24/7 i was lacking sleep because she refused to sleep on her own and i had to feed her every two hours and when she got older she got hyper and i needed to play with her so she could chill out a little more. i remember as i put her to sleep in my lap for the third time i thought to myself “is this what babies are like? but worse, dirtier and for a longer time?” as much as i love my little fur baby i don’t think i could go through that again so i wonder yves’ thoughts on pets. he gives off those vibes that he hates fur everywhere and can’t stand barking lol. but then again if reader wants a pet im assuming he’ll accommodate somehow.

Pets that need his constant attention like most mammals and noisy animals like the majority of birds are a big no for him.

However, he doesn't mind having reptilians as pets. As long as they're big enough to not lose them. He is indifferent to fishes, but he sees them more as home decor than actual living beings. Something akin to owning lava lamps.

He especially likes snakes. It fits with the aesthetic of his house and they're one of the lowest maintenance pets there is. He would meet all of its physical needs, but other than that, he wouldn't care to spend more time with it than necessary. The snake will be locked up in its enclosure at all times, unless you want to interact with it and he knows that your personality wouldn't lead to trouble. He knows everything there is to know about the snake, yet he sees it as a mere display piece for his living room.

Yves despises insects, he uses the presence of them as a sign that the environment isn't clean, and he does not appreciate having to think his house is filthy. No matter how much research he does on them and how many results show that insects do not necessarily equal dirty, Yves just could not accept them.

He is not squeamish, though. Yves despises them but he is not afraid of them, he knows how to handle a tarantula gently and keep calm when it decides to crawl under his turtleneck. If you threw a bucket of cockroaches on him he would not scream or flail, he would dodge it gracefully before dusting himself off. If any got onto him, he will just pick them off his clothes as if they're paper stickers. Yves will not beat around the bush and try to find a roll of newspaper or a bug spray, he is squashing that colony of spiders with his bare hands.

The way he could simply grab a handful of mealworms without hesitation makes the world think he loves bugs. He doesn't, not one bit.

You could simply shove him in a vat full of writhing maggots and he would come out as if he took a leisure swim in the pool, combing his hair with his fingers to get rid of any leftovers.

Yves would be annoyed more than horrified, lecturing you that pushing him into ponds of worms is rude while he jerks his head to expel the ones that are stuck in his ears.

Not to say he is inept at taking care of them. Yves can be an excellent caretaker for any and every animal. His research skills are unbelievably godly and he loathes the idea of him being perceived as incompetent in anything.

Yves also has a strangely high tolerance for all things disgusting and vile, he could clean up the most brutal bloody murder scene complete with mutilated bodies, decomposition, faeces, urine, vomit and other bodily fluids without wearing gloves or a gas mask; and still have an appetite to eat lunch immediately after. Vacuuming fur and sifting through the litter box is nothing to him. He just does not find much fulfillment in owning a pet. Hence, a pet becomes a parasite in his life, and he detests all things vermin.

If you wanted a furry companion so badly, he will hit the books and review the patterns in your life again.

Do you really want a pet or are you actually just bored? If it's the latter, he could effectively fill your time and make you forget about your desire for an animal companion. He could also negotiate his way out of this too.

Are you someone who hyper fixate on something or someone, then lose all interest after a few months? Then, he could wait it out. Taking care of your newest breathing toy as he counts down until you finally decide to abandon it and move on to greener pastures.

Are you someone who easily gives up at the first encounter of a problem? Maybe all it takes for you to drop the interest entirely is a meow that's too loud or a nip that's a bit too painful. He's going to train the animal to misbehave around you.

Are you someone who is susceptible to peer pressure? He is going to train your pet to misbehave around your loved ones. Manipulate your friends and family into thinking that you're an abusive or neglectful pet owner. He doesn't have to say a word to you, everyone is doing the pressuring for him.

Maybe you would fold under his dour glare and stern words, he can be quite scary at times. That generally reduces anyone into a shivering, crying mess that will not bring up the things that displeases him. This is usually the second-last resort to anything.

Perhaps you're a fierce animal lover and have a strong portfolio of being a cat or dog owner. You wouldn't give your beloved four legged friends up for the world, you will fight for them till your very last breath. Someone with unbreakable maternal/paternal instincts towards your precious fur babies. Giving them up is not in the equation.

Well, he is not above traumatizing you for life.

When push comes to shove, you might find your trusted non-human companions betraying you by lacerating your extremities to the point of no repair. Puncturing your throat with its sharp canines and claws, leaving you to breathe on a ventilator while Yves takes care of you in the hospital.

Or he could direct the attack to someone else, make you liable for lasting damages and having to put your seemingly rabid pets down. You would also have to live with the guilt of knowing you're mainly responsible for disfiguring that poor child's face, changing his life for the worse, just because you "didn't" train them well.

He warned you not to test him. Yves has been lenient and his patience has reached its limits. He may love you and want the best for you, but he is also very, very selfish.

[flames-unicorns-and-sentryguns]

Larping AU

or: everyone is just playing pretend. The Administrator is someone just kinda watching from the property next door.

Everyone's real life deal

Scout: community college student in his first/ second year. Works part time at subway, working on/ wants to be a voice actor and artist. Not related to Spy here.

Spy: an actual Actor, befriends Scout and males their characters have the Father son relationship. Wears lots of costume pieces and clothes to hide himself.

Demoman: a Scotsman who owns a bar and has a special interest in explosives.

Solider: a history teacher at the college scout goes to. Knows his stuff and will throw in some factual historical/ casual knowledge into his pretend nonsensical yelling.

heavy: a literature teacher at the same college. Befriends Solider, got introduced to Demoman via Solider. Zhanna hangs out with him and ends up as part of the Lore of their game. Met Scout outside of work because he happens to visit the same shop scout works at.

Engineer: is a civil/ electrical engineer. Has wrist and hand problems and wears a brace. Can't actually play the guitar ( partially due to his wrist pain). So he brings around a guitar hero guitar to pretend to play it. Accidentally said yeah I'm playing an engineer because he did not realize they were picking their roles. All his machines are made of cardboard boxes. The dispenser is a cooler people can come by and grab snacks/ drinks and take a break.

Medic: an actual medic, dating heavy still. When he activates ' Uber' he makes the medic theme song with his mouth for 8 seconds.

Sniper: a park ranger at the local wildlife preservation park. Im not taking away the Bushman thing.

pyro: worked or works with some sort of painting/ spray paint and needs the suit/ mask. Friends with engineer still.

They all kinda know each other/ end up visiting the same bar. They got to talking and made a goofy story/ wouldn't it be funny if - situation and started making up a whole lore behind it..

Spy's cloak: he is throwing a blanket of some sort and everyone pretending not to see him. Doesn't smoke, but likes to chew on things. His knives? A Popsicle stick. His disguises? Still the paper masks

Engineer pretends his wrist brace is the Gunslinger and he gets to slap people.

the guns and bats? Nerf guns and the like. Heavys boxing gloves? Socker boppers.

The bombs? Glitter bombs.

Rocket jumping? A pogo stick/ trampoline.

Saxton Hale is a gym bro that comes by sometimes.

pyros flamethrower ? A broken vacuum cleaner/ hair dryer.

Medic carries around a toy medic bag. His medigun? A flash light/ a vacuum hose.

the classic mercs are some old people/ people from the old folks home they invited over for some of the main comic plot.

Merasmus is Soliders room mate and insists on trying to Play regular DND in this larp.

[lorifragolina]

Firebird baby

Hello! I wanted to write something like this for a long time, and it's just silly and short, I hope you enjoy as I enjoyed it! @harringrovesummerbingo

Title: Firebird Baby

Square & Prompt: B3 "Listen to the roar of that engine"

Rating: General

Word Count: 1163

Major Tags: too much fluff.

Summary: Billy is wealthy now and collects car. Steve loves him, and this day he loves him more.

Read in on AO3

“Hear the roar of that engine”

At that point, Steve used to think the very same sentence when Billy spent a little time in the garage taking care of his babies, polishing them personally and trying the engine just to check if all was in order. He was still stuck to his Camaro, now a little vintage but still rocking, for every other day, but sometimes he decided to go to the panoramic just to show them off.

”Hear the roar of this engine”, he said every time, breaking in front of Steve, with a tempting smile “Jump in, princess,” he said, and Steve quivered with pleasure and joined him in the convertible. 

Billy liked his cars, he was working hard and he deserved every whim he wanted; now they were wealthy enough to indulge their guilty and not so guilty pleasures, and all was thanks to their effort and hard work. 

Steve liked the wind in his hair, at BIlly’s side, on the road near the coast, smelling the scent of the sea and watching his boyfriend glow in the sun of his place.

“The Firebird? Why?” Said Steve that morning,  adjusting his sunglasses at the end of the driveway where Billy stopped for him. 

Billy shrugged, that mischieving crease of his mouth that always predicted troubles.

“For a change,” he smiled, chewing gum. 

He started the car and drove down the hill, slowly, a hand resting to the window, thinking. The radio was at an unusually low volume and Steve had the sensation that Billy wanted to talk, but he kept driving silently.

They both had a day free from work and both of them had errands to do, then they would have lunch together, and Steve was excited almost like for a date. 

At the end, Billy entered the city and stopped nicely at every red light without a word. He kept fidgeting with an unlit cig and looking in front of him through the ray ban, and when he parked, Steve left the car a little confused. 

“See you here in a couple of hours”, said Billy, taking off his sunglasses and dragging him close to his waist. They kissed passionately and then Steve waved to him, walking to the bank. Billy insisted on going separately to their tasks and that  was confusing too. He was acting strangely, but Steve didn’t mind it a lot, sometimes Billy liked to change, that’s all.

Steve hurried up looking at his clock. He had left the bank quickly, but then lost the track of time in the shops of the boulevard, and he was guiltily carrying more bags than he wanted to admit. He wasn’t late but he knew that Billy got easily impatient. 

Luckily Billy came in the same moment from the opposite direction. He hadn't seen him so Steve slowed a little, relieved.

He raised his eyes and saw a little kid getting out of his mother’s hand and ran right to the Firebird, his eyes popping out of his face for surprise and excitement.

Billy saw him too. Steve lowered his pace a little more, just wanting to watch the scene. 

He knew that Billy was absolutely jealous of his cars. He passed the time literally vacuuming and polishing them and let Steve drive them only on a few occasions and after a plethora of recommendations and instructions. He didn’t use them after the rain or when the desert wind blew sand in the air. He avoided smoking inside and for this he had a big provision of gums in the glove glove box. 

And he knew that never, under any concept, never never would he let someone else touch his car. Even less, a kid, with his sticky and greasy hands and his messy breath. 

The kid ran near the car, raising his hands but not daring to touch the red polish. His mouth was a perfect “O” and he made little jumps and cries, looking at the shiny color, the silver mirrors, the polished bands in the middle of the doors.

His mother grabbed him at the last second before he could touch the car.

Billy was already there at their side, towering the kid and making the keys clinking in his hand.

“I’m sorry, he just likes nice cars, but…” the mother started to excuse, but Billy ignored her, squatting in front of the kid instead.

“Do you like it?” He asked sweetly. 

The kid suddenly became shy and grabbed his mother’s hands.

“Come on, do you like it?” Billy smiled a little more. “I’m Billy, what’s your name?”

“I’m… I’m Adrian, sir,” the kid answered politely. 

Billy nodded. “And do you like cars? Do you like this car?”

The kid loosened a little. 

“Yes sir. I like the Firebird sir”.

Billy nodded and kept smiling, impressed. Steve was fascinated and enamored by the light he had in his eyes at that moment. 

“And do you ever touch one?” 

The kid shook his head. “Do you want to sit inside?”

The kid nodded and clapped enthusiastically, already forgetting of his shyness and completely captivated. Steve could understand him really well. 

Billy opened the car and helped the kid sitting in the driver seat, letting him touching the wheel, the leather seats and the briar interior. He then sat and took Adrian in his lap, Steve was surprised about how naturally Billy was acting with the kid, and inserted the keys, opened the roof and turned on the engine. 

“Hear the roar of this engine,” he said, giggling with the kid, who was completely ecstatic and happy.

“Come on Adrian, we have to go now. What do you say to this kind man?”

Adrian climbed out from the car reluctantly and took his mother’s hand again.

“Thank you, Billy,” he said.

“Anytime, Adrian. Bye!” He waved his hand, smiling brightly, noticing Steve only in that moment.

“What was that? I thought you didn’t want anybody touching your car”.

“Mmm”, murmured Billy, quickly taking a soft cloth and polishing the door around the handle.

“I thought you didn’t like kids, and less around the car”.

Billy shrugged, looking furtively at him before jumping in the car.

Steve didn’t let it go.

“Come on, what was that?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”.

“I was sure you didn’t want kids in the cars”.

“Well, maybe it’s not true”, he took a gum and chewed it for a while. “Maybe I can change some rules. Maybe I can admit some selected kids on selected occasions in the cars”.

Steve felt a warm blush of happiness glowing on his cheek, and tried to say something, but Billy stopped him raising a hand.

“But not six. Six is too much. I’d never drive a van, I swear to God”.

Steve bursted to laughing. 

“Ok, ok, less than six”, he sputtered.

“Let’s start with one. Let’s try”, smiled Billy.

“I love you,” said Steve, grabbing his hand and kissing it.

[cleatechlaboratory]

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[nothingkillsyoulikeyourmind105]

“You’re His Wife”

Master list

TW- None

Feel free to reblog and comment

Everyone on base all knew König for being the blood thirsty, madman on the field. Insertion specialist, Kortac contractor before transferring to the TF 141.

Keeps to himself majority of the time when he’s on base. Speaks only when spoken too.

But soon everyone started to notice he get packages sent to him twice a month. He would pick up his packages and take them back to his room.

When holidays came König was the first to leave and always the last one to back from his holiday or vacation.

These changes everyone noticed. He was different on base. He started to take up the offer of going to therapy.

He started to take care of his appearance. His clothes washed and pressed his mask was actual clean and mended

The smell of his clothes when he would return from home or from vacation. The smell of floral perfume stuck to his clothes.

His causal clothes he wore when he was off duty looked different on him. The snacks he put in his pantry in the kitchen. Were all sent in to him.

Austrian brand snacks and homemade cookies vacuum sealed and letters and presents all neatly wrapped and given to him when mail arrived.

König was actually starting to be patient with the recruits and he started to speak up a bit more when back on base.

Soap noticed a ring on his finger when König took his glove off. When they were working out and doing pull ups.

The sounds of laughter and König talking loudly in his mother tongue. All coming from his room.

Anytime he received calls he would take them privately away from prying eyes and ears.

The time came when the Holidays came around. Soap, Gaz and Ghost were walking back from the bar. When they noticed in the distance a woman emerging from a cab she carried a medium sized box wrapped up in gift wrapping. She was talking with Captain Price they walked onto the base.

There the mystery woman stood. Shaking her coat out as she placed it on the coat holder. She spoke with Price briefly and he left her alone in his office with the door open.

Soap, Gaz and Ghost walked to Price office where they were met with a beautiful face. Her soft gaze and a smile that brighten a room.

“Hallo, I’m Birdie”

“You must be Soap, Gaz and Ghost I presume”

The men all nodded in unison. Before Soap could speak he heard König speak.

“Meine Hase”

“What are you doing here?”

König rushed into Price office towering the men as he pushed passed them.

Watching her pull König down he lifted his hood. Kissing her while holding her waist.

The guys all shocked and they all looked away trying to collect themselves.

“What? König?”

Soap rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

“Das ist meine Frau”

“Kö my love English?”

She nudged her husbands arm. She stands beside him cling to his arm as she looks to the men with her soft loving smile.

“This is my wife”

Soap eyes widen with disbelief. Looking at the guys and looking back at König. Pinching the bridge of his nose he looked at König and Birdie. Trying to figure the chemistry between the two.

“I have so many questions for you Bonnie?”

Her stood a sweet, beautiful woman. She stood about 5,6 small frame. Her dark brown hair pinned up in a bun with a few stray hair framing her face. Her makeup done lightly. She has a septum piercing along with both side of her nostrils pierced with a dainty little chain draped over her nose connecting the piercings. Her glasses slightly slipping down onto her nose. She pushes them up with her small delicate fingers. Her smile soft her eyes dark brown pools filled with affection for her husband.

She stands beside him wearing black overalls with a light cream colored turtleneck. Her flower resin earrings dangled on her ears. Her black boots shined with melted snow on them.

Looking back at König. They look at her then back to him. In complete shock and disbelief that König the same König that is a beast on the field but a quiet brooding behemoth of a man that crept around the base. His hood draped over his head and face that struck fear into his enemies just by glancing at them. And everyone on base avoided contact with him. This man with someone smaller then him and that has a ring on her finger.

This woman who wears a wedding ring from König.

“How did you two meet?”

“Ummm” looking to her husband she blushes and looking down squeaking her boots on the hardwood floor in Price office.

König looked down a his little wife with a small rub on her lower back his eyes crinkled with a smile.

She sighed and spoke softly.

“It was in the summer time and I had a part time gig where I took dogs walking and one day we were at the park. One of the bigger dogs had gotten loose and I chased after them. Running at them full speed I ran into König by accident. I literally ran into him and it didn’t faze him one bit. I’m laying on the ground feeling like I ran into a wall. He walks over looking at me fumbling his fingers not knowing what to say. He pulls me to my feet and sets me down on the nearest bench. Another woman rushes over with a bottle of water patting my back and speaking German to me. I’m a bit confused and lost about what happened and König is being scolded by this woman and it turns out to be his mother. He brought his mother and oma to the states for a visit. And I happen to run into him chasing a dog.”

“Don’t worry the dog came back. But after that encounter we exchanged numbers. Then from there we started to see each other but not as often as we wanted. He eventually told me about his work and how long he was gone for and what to expect. So we had a long distance relationship in the beginning. But we made it work and two years later he eventually took me to Austria to his Oma birthday party dinner where he proposed to me. His oma took her ring off her finger and gave it him. König already had a ring picked out for me but he pocketed it and kissed his oma head.”

Taking the ring from his oma he looked to birdie and placed his Oma’s ring on her finger.

“And here we are. This belong to his Oma. It’s beautiful isnt”

Soap looked at Ghost shocked and he still didn’t believe König the blood thirsty man standing here with a cute shy wee lassie clinging to his arm.

-a/n the photo above credit to them. The artist is unknown at the moment but credit to them. I will search for the artist.

[areasontobreathe]

Things I do as an actual adult that makes my life better on a daily basis:

I find something I like to wear and always buy the same thing going forward. I am on my 6th pair of Asics sneakers in over a decade, I own 20ish pairs of Avia socks, I have 10 of the same shirt in 7 different colors, 13 of the same tank in 10 colors, and usually around 3 pairs of the exact same jeans. I can blindly get dressed and it all feels comfy and looks fine.

(Stolen from my sister) I have a type of meal I plan on making for each day of the week so I don't have to think quite so much about groceries and what's for dinner.

All of my veggies go with any protein. Just grab a can or bag of what sounds good, boom, meal.

Canned soup and cups of minute rice. I cannot stress enough how much easier this makes lunch when I have no leftovers. 1 can of Progresso anything is 2 meals when you add a cup of rice.

Sundays are for writing and laundry. Only writing and laundry. Pair a long chore with a hobby and make that a day every week.

The good vacuum is actually worth it. You will never regret getting the best vacuum you can afford, bc it will pay for itself really quickly.

Don't spend extra on a broom unless it's for severe allergies. They all work the same otherwise. Cheaper ones are lighter, so you'll probably use them more.

Dish gloves. They really do make you more likely to wash dishes bc you don't have to touch the ick.

Buy the candle and burn it.

You can order cheap food containers from the dollar tree in bulk, same cost. If you have somewhere to shove the box, do recommend. We all have chucked a container bc the contents are about to gain sentience, you'll feel less guilty when the container cost a dollar.

Buy toilet paper in bulk. Too much toilet paper is a self solving issue.

[jottingprosaist]

Took a sick day today because I felt like microwaved garbage yesterday afternoon... then woke up feeling pretty all right, actually. Spent a while in bed with the cats wondering what I'd be doing with my unexpected free day off.

Turns out, what my brain really wanted to do with a healthy body and a responsibility-free day was clean the house and cook for 8 hours. No, really.

I juiced some oranges and a lemon that were going bad and made a big pot of spiced tea, then zested the peels and baked a lil cranberry orange scone for breakfast. I took all the celery trimmings from cooking class and put them in a pot to make some vegetable stock, and while that was simmering I looked around the kitchen and decided to mop the floor. While it was drying, I grabbed the vacuum and did a thorough job on the rest of the house, finally including under the couch. (Gross. GROSS. Dust bunny civilizations.)

I damp-dusted and threw out so much cat hair. Washed the bathroom walls and baseboards. Scrubbed under the tub mat. Took a break for tea. Strained the veggie stock and threw in some carrots and onions for soup. About this time, my friend dropped off some groceries after work and I had supper.

The discount produce box I bought gave me a ton of red peppers, so now I'm gonna roast and jar 'em. (If nothing else, buying discount produce has given me a huge appreciation for old methods of preserving fresh food-- anything to extend its lifespan and keep it in tasty condition for later.)

Now some knitting and youtube, I think, because I am secretly 80 years old. I do need those new gloves sooner than later though.

Meanwhile, the cats have been synchronized napping all day 🥹

[trivialbob]

Today I feel ambitious. And hungry.

I woke up hours before sunrise and never looked back. For no particular reason, I was very hungry. As soon as I got dressed I made a terrific breakfast sandwich and a big mug of coffee.

After eating, I started laundry. Getting clothes cleaned, folded, and put away always makes me happy. It also made me hungry again. Before the rinse cycle finished, I prepared breakfast #2.

At sunrise, the dogs and I went to the airport dog park. There is no snow here now. White frost covered the grass. I thought it looked nice. I'll take winter any way I can get it.

We walked two miles. Oliver loves going to the park. However, he wasn't a fan of that second loop. With his hoarse-sounding bark and disdain for extended exercise, one might think he's a two pack a day smoker. He'll sleep the rest of the morning.

On the way home my filthy truck needed gas. More things that make me happy: a full tank of gas and a clean vehicle. Without thinking, I ordered a car wash code on the self-service pump. The dogs were still with me!

As I entered the bay of the automatic wash, the whining started. I overlooked that Ella HATES the car wash. Then I learned that little Sulley, on his first trip ever to a car wash, HATES it even more than Ella does. He tried to hide in the glove box, under my seat, under the passenger seat, and even in one of the cup holders. Had he not peed on every tree in the park earlier he might have done it in the truck. There was no way to speed up or cancel the wash.

When we got home all three dogs ran inside the house and stayed far away from me.

That walk had made me hungry again. Eating a third breakfast would be gross. So let's call it brunch. This time I ate some soup I had made and saved in the freezer some time ago.

Getting back to housework, I vacuumed inside the truck and washed off the nose prints that covered the rear windows. With clean windows the truck is remarkably bright inside.

Now the laundry is done. I cleaned more around the house. No joke, I'm getting a little excited to put my lunch dishes (meal #4) in the dishwasher, because it will then be full enough for me to start it.

At that point I'll be ready for a nap. My best naps happen when the dishwasher is running.

[askjingrandet]

Jins Wisdom 3: Cleaning a Huge Mess.

Hey there everyone, it's another installment of Jin's Wisdom. Now I know what you're all thinking, Jin we've seen/heard about your factions office. Do you really think you're qualified to give cleaning advice? Yes, yes I do.

Now unlike Yves and Chevalier (surprisingly also Nokto) and how they do things I'm not talking about cleaning clean places. If you've got a nice tidy space that takes you less than 15 minutes to be guest ready nah this ain't for you. What I'm talking about is places in a real bad need of cleaning. The places so bad you have no idea where to even start.

Maybe you got injured or sick, maybe your mental health was struggling, maybe you had a baby or maybe your wife/husband left for a few weeks and now they're due back tomorrow and you have one day to do 2 weeks of cleaning, maybe you share an office with your brothers and every so often one of them forces you to clean the whole place because it ‘looks bad’ and is ‘dangerous’. Whatever the situation, this advice is a starting point for those types of cleaning situations.

Before I get into the specifics though, if you're struggling I want you to know it's okay to ask for help, professional or personal, even just some words of encouragement if that would help. If you don't take care of yourself, you can't take care of anything else. That said, let's get into how I do it and hopefully it helps somebody.

Gather up the very basic supplies you'll need. Broom/vacuum, garbage bags, some boxes/baskets. That's it for now we want to get it started, worry about dusting and all that later.

Pick a room/corner (not kitchen that has its own technique), start with an easier one that will go quickly so you can be encouraged by having something cleaned up quick.

Gather up all the dirty dishes you can see in the room and take them to the kitchen. Don't worry if you find more later it's ok, you'd be surprised how often we find plates hidden under stacks of paperwork in the office.

Now that the dishes are out, pick up all the big garbage or anything broken and toss it or recycle it. Don't worry about the chip crumbs or anything like that we're getting those soon.

Next pick up anything big/obvious off the floor that isn't the small trash, so things like toys, clothes, paperwork whatever it is. If it belongs in that room/area set it aside if not stuff it in one of the baskets keeping all of the same category together. I set the baskets on the sofa when Yves makes me clean so I don't have to keep bending down, don't want to hurt my back after all.

Now here is where your floor type matters, if you have carpet you need to do things differently because this is for wood/tile/vinyl/marble. What we do now is sweep everything into one big pile into the center of the area/room. Then we give the pile a look over, are there small objects that aren't trash like toys, gloves, cufflinks etc. If there is dig em out and put them in the proper basket. Once you're sure nothing is left just sweep it into a dust pan and toss.

With the floors done, do the same with any other surface that has stuff on it like desks or bookshelves, not sure why there was a sheath hidden behind some books that one time but…If there's anything like crumbs or something on these surfaces just wipe them onto the floor.

Next we're going to take the vacuum or broom again and go over the floor again, getting up the really fine or stubborn dirt we didn't get earlier along with all the crumbs and stuff we just wiped onto it.

Take those baskets to where whatever is in them belongs. So for example all the clothes go to the laundry area. I'd you want to tackle a second room/area go back up to step one, if not move to the last step.

This is the last step and it's to wash all those dishes you brought into the kitchen earlier, not all the dishes just those we brought in. My admin said this is a lot easier if you have a dishwasher to do it for you if not then we'll put on some good music.

With all of that done you're on your way! I know it's not doing everything like dusting, mopping, windows etc but as I said that's not what I'm going for with this. This is advice on how to do it when it's become so overwhelming it paralyzes you. At least with the very basics done, if you can keep on top of it for a while then you can slowly work up to doing the bigger tasks when you're ready.

Just take things one step at a time and don't overwhelm yourself, especially if you've been really struggling. Remember take care of you first otherwise nothing else is going to get taken care of, not properly anyways.

Miscellaneous Cleaning Tidbits:

Hand wash dishes by starting with the least dirty moving to dirtiest. So cups/glasses, utensils, plates/bowls then pots/pans.

If you don't like strong chemical cleaners, vinegar or lemon juice can be used instead. You can find loads of recipes out there for cleaning pastes and sprays using them.

Don't be afraid to wash your wood floors! Find a good product and follow its directions (my admin uses Murphy's oil) the floors will thank you.

Beat/shake out your rugs every so often, it's a great stress reliever especially if you pretend it's somebody you hate or are angry at.

Got dusty blinds? If they can easily come down, take them down, put them in the bathtub and pour water over them. Gets rid of the dust fast, just make sure to handle them gently, like you would if it was a beautiful woman. If they can't be taken down lay a towel under them and use a spray bottle with a bit of dish soap then rinse with another spray bottle of just water.

Rinse blood out of fabrics while still wet if you can it helps to not stain them.

Toss out or donate toys when your little kids are in school or gone away for a while. This way no fighting over them wanting to keep a toy they hadn't played with in six months just because they saw it again. This one was from my admin.

Don't mix cleaning chemicals!

Put on upbeat music, it will usually help and at the least won't hurt.

Open up your windows for a bit each day to get some fresh air in, weather permitting of course.