#then after that i can have a go at scouring both the bathrooms showers/sinks/toilets | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cptsdstudyblr · 3 years

Text

So you moved out and have no idea how to keep your home clean? Home Cleaning Crash Course

What cleaning supplies do I actually need?

Tools:

Broom, mini-broom, and dustpan

Mop (get a real mop, not a Swiffer)

Vacuum (if you have carpet)

Microfiber cloths

Dish sponges

Scouring pad

Products:

All-purpose cleaner

Disinfecting/antibacterial cleaner

Mop fluid (Pine-Sol works for most mops)

Glass cleaner

Toilet-bowl cleaner

Shower/tub cleaner

Dish soap

Furniture cleaner/wood cleaner

Miscellaneous:

Trash bags (to fit all your trash cans), recycling bags

What do I need to do when?

Disclaimer: This is a suggestion. Feel free to modify it to your needs. I am both chronically ill and mentally ill, so I regularly modify my cleaning plans to be more accessible to me. Just do your best and it will work out :)

Multiple times a day:

Handwash dishes

Wipe kitchen counter with an all-purpose cleaner and microfiber cloth (immediately after cooking)

Wipe kitchen sink with a soapy sponge (immediately after washing dishes)

Rinse bathroom sink with water (immediately after brushing teeth)

Some people prefer to tidy up multiple times a day/as they go

Always disinfect your kitchen thoroughly using an antibacterial or disinfectant cleaner after cooking raw meat or fish to avoid foodborne illness.

Once a day:

Load/unload the dishwasher

Put away dishes

Wipe kitchen sink, counter, and stove with an all-purpose cleaner and a microfiber cloth

Clean bathroom sink and counter with an all-purpose cleaner (or even just soap)

Some people prefer to do one big tidy once a day

Make your bed and fix any pillows and blankets throughout the house

Replace your dirty towels and sponges

Check the mail

1-2 times a week:

Take out any trash that contains food waste or period waste

Clean your dining table using either glass or furniture/wood cleaner and a microfiber cloth

Disinfect your sink, counter, and stove using an antibacterial or disinfectant cleaner.

Fix any spaces that need to be organized, but get disorganized over time

Wipe your heavily-trafficked furniture with a microfiber cloth and use a cleaner on any surfaces you feel need it

Clean your floors (sweep, mop, and vacuum)

Clean your tub/shower and your toilet

Do laundry - the three categories I usually do are towels (kitchen and bathroom), sheets/blankets, and clothes, but you may have more or less categories

Water any plants you need to

Take out the trash/recycling

1-2 times a month:

Clean your appliances (mostly as needed, but don't let it get really bad or it will be so much harder to clean)

Clean out expired food from your fridge and pantry

Wash your shower curtain

Clean your shower drain so that it doesn't get clogged (you may need to do this more often if you have long hair)

Dust your less heavily-trafficked furniture with a microfiber cloth

Wipe your door handles and light switches with a disinfecting or antibacterial cleaner

Clean your garbage cans

Occasionally:

Change your air filter (if you have AC or heating)

Dust your non-furniture items such as ceiling fans and blinds

Clean your windows

Vacuum under your furniture

#adulting #life skills #mental health #mental illness #cptsd #ptsd #anxiety #depression #cleaning #neurodivergent #cleaning tips

2K notes · View notes

cloudwomensquarterly · 5 years

Text

So Fresh and So Clean By Nahui Ollin Paredes

It’s that time of the year again National Poetry Writing Month, you know, the tortuous — a poem a day for thirty days, and, it’s also Spring cleaning time. Yay!

Time to go through those closets and gift or recycle anything you haven’t worn for more than a year, to store the winter clothes, and to get out the lighter weight ones… that’s of course if you live in areas where the weather is at all predictable anymore, but I digress. This article is more about what we use to clean with and some suggestions of natural cleaners to use as alternatives to the more noxious and toxic ones we all grew up using like bleach, oven cleaner, that blue toilet bowl stuff and on and on. The same products we’ve always been told are the only effective cleaners to get out grime, odor, and germs. But exposure to chemicals used to make these household cleaners can have adverse effects on our health. A recent study by Scientists at Norway’s University of Bergen, which tracked 6,000 people over two decades, found that lung function decline in women who regularly used the products, as in those who worked cleaning for a living, was equal to those with a 20-cigarette daily smoking habit.

Household cleaners can cause mild irritations but have also have been linked to asthma, cancer, and hormonal imbalances. They are responsible for thousands of poisonings every year, mostly of children. There are other good reasons to stop or at least limit their use, and that is that these chemical filled cleaners pollute our air, water, and earth. They pack landfills and contaminate water sources and marine habitats after being washed down sewer systems. Petroleum-based cleaners and plastic packaging also help deplete nonrenewable natural resources.

So here’s a list of some alternatives you probably have in your fridge or pantry that you might try this Spring and on into the future.

Lemons

Lemons are natural disinfectants because of their antibacterial properties. For many, the refreshing citrus smell exemplifies cleanliness. ( Use lemon juice on cutting boards - kills bacteria, in garbage disposals - throw in the rinds to freshen, and in the laundry - ½ c. lemon juice added to rinse cycle brightens whites.)

Salt

Good old-fashioned table salt can be used as an abrasive cleaner. (Again on cutting boards - you can mix with lemon, for caked-on foods on baking pans, and as a soak for pots/pans.)

Vinegar

So powerful and economical, distilled white vinegar is one of nature’s most versatile cleaners. Its odor can be a bit overwhelming, but the smell goes away after it dries. (Use for countertops, sinks, windows, mirrors, appliances, floors, tubs, and showers - you name it.)

Baking soda

Baking soda is used in many refrigerators because it helps absorb odors but used in water it can also help dissolve dirt and grease. Like vinegar, baking soda has a wide variety of uses. (Refrigerators, ovens, cupboards, anything that needs scouring like pots and pans, use in your laundry to remove grease/dirt.)

Tea tree oil

Australian tea tree oil is well-known for its medicinal purposes, but the antibacterial and antifungal properties of this essential oil can also be useful in the home. You can make an all-purpose cleaner by filling a spray bottle with a quart of warm water and then mixing in 15 drops of tea tree oil. I spray down the shower after each use with this mixture. For areas that have mold, or if you need more concentrated strength for cleaning - like toilet bowls - you can use a more concentrated batch of 2 teaspoons to two cups of water and pour in, brush and voila! In the case of mold on shower or bathroom tile use the spray and leave on to dry, it may not make the discoloration to fade completely but the mold will be gone.

It’s April, so if you’re not going to Spring clean - write poetry instead, or better yet — do both!

Happy Spring!

Reprinted with permission.

Nahui Ollin Paredes is a world traveler, dreamer, writer, and wise woman. She loves to brew up herbal concoctions, cook for family and friends and finds comfort in the alchemy of the kitchen. ♡

#CWQJ Spring 2019 #Spring Cleaning #NaPoWriMo #Women #Poetry #Natural Cleaning

1 note · View note

booksteaandarainyday · 6 years

Text

Just Because Everything Changes: Chapter 2

He couldn’t seem to sit still, so he paced the blue marble tile about a hundred times. Back and forth, back and forth. He crinkled his nose in disgust. Archie had never realized how much he hated the overly sanitized smell of a hospital, and he shivered from the cold feel in the air. Honestly, he wanted nothing more than to go home and take a long hot shower. The doctor had yet to return with any news of his father, however, so he stayed.

Realization hit Archie for the first time since he had set foot in the ambulance. His father, the man who stayed with him after his mom moved out and who did and gave everything for him, was laying on an operating table right now surrounded by doctors and nurses who were fighting to save his life. His dad could die. His chest got tight and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. Archie sat in the uncomfortable brown chair in the waiting room and dug his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and hardly glanced at it as he dialed a number that was almost as familiar to him as breathing and waited for the line to pick up.

“Archie?” Betty answered, her voice sounding thick.

And he could breathe again. “Betty.” he choked out desperately. “I need you here. I’m at the hospital. My dad, he…” But he couldn’t finish his sentence.

There was silence for a moment, and he worried Betty would hang up on him. He should know better by now than to doubt her. “I’m on my way.” And she hung up the phone.

He barely waited fifteen minutes for Betty to come bursting through the doors to the waiting room. “Archie!” she called. He glanced up at her, blinking in some shock, because while she was always beautiful, he didn’t think he’d seen a sweatpants and oversized t-shirt clad Betty since they were thirteen and she had finally been allowed to start wearing makeup like her sister, Polly. After that, she was always impeccably dressed, her makeup perfect but still light enough to only enhance her natural beauty. So seeing her like this, just the way they used to be, brought back great memories of their childhood together.

Naturally, he assumed the clothes she wore must belong to Jughead, and so looked past her to spot his other best friend, blinking again when he realized there was no Jug to be found. Betty reached him then, stopping hardly a foot away from him and reaching to touch his arm through his jacket. She didn’t say anything at first, choosing instead to stare at him in some form of horror.

“Archie, oh my God. What happened?” He noticed her eyes were very wide and hadn’t strayed too much from his front the whole time she’d been standing in front of him. Looking down at himself, he saw why.

Nearly every inch of him from torso to knee cap was covered in blood. He continued to stare at himself until the ground looked like it was spinning, and he felt Betty wrap her arm around his waist. Shit, the ground wasn’t moving, he was shaking, and Betty was keeping him from collapsing. When his eyes finally moved from his blood stained clothing, he saw she was guiding him to the bathroom. She flicked the light on and stood him in front of the sink, turning the tap to hot and putting his hands under the spray.

Probably, the water was hotter than he was used to, but Archie didn’t notice. He was too busy watching the white porcelain sink turn pink with the blood he hadn’t seen coating his hands. Betty stuck her hand under the soap dispenser, pumping a few times to release a mound of the foamy soap the hospital used, and brought it down to meet the water where his hands waited, taking them one at a time between her much smaller ones and gently rubbing to scour him clean of blood. It was funny, he had never noticed before how small Betty really was. Tall, yes, but still so delicate he was afraid of how easily he might break her. Betty was a tough girl, he knew that because she would have to be with all the craziness her family had gone through the last few months. Not only her family though, but with Cheryl Blossom trying to terrorize her, then the ordeal with someone painting the words “Serpent Slut” onto her locker in pigs blood.

And now, here she stood calmly cleaning his father’s blood off his hands.

After a few more minutes, she declared his hands clean. She took him by the shoulders and lightly pushed him to sit down on the closed toilet seat lid. “Archie, can you take your jacket off for me?” she asked quietly. He numbly slid the jacket off himself, wincing only slightly when it stuck a little to his t-shirt. Betty held her hand out to take it from him, pausing for a moment to cup his cheek in her soft palm and rub across his cheekbone with her thumb, before taking the jacket and walking back to the sink. She ran cold water instead of hot this time and immediately stuck it in the sink, trying her best to rinse at least some of the red out of the golden sleeves. It was a little more difficult to see on the dark blue of the torso, but Archie knew when it dried, the blue would turn a muddy shade of brown that would be hell to wash out.

Betty echoed his thoughts exactly by saying, “Well, at least it hasn’t dried yet, it may still stand a chance of coming through unscathed.” She continued with, “When we get home I’ll rub some stain remover and some diluted ammonia over it and toss it in the washing machine and it should be good as new. I just wish we had some better soap than this.”

For the first time, Archie spoke. “Betty, how exactly are you such a pro at removing bloodstains?”

She turned to him with wide eyes and pink cheeks. “I am a girl, Arch.” He stared at her uncomprehendingly until the implication made it through his distracted brain.

“Oh.” He cast his eyes down, blushing a little himself. He and Betty had been best friends for fourteen years. For goodness’ sake, they’d gone through puberty around the same time, but they’d never actually talked about the fact that Betty had her period. It was kind of an odd thing to linger on, but he supposed it was better than concentrating on his dad in the middle of a surgery and Archie not being allowed to see him until he got out of ICU.

Betty finished soaping up his jacket and rinsed it, wringing it out until she got as much of the water out of it she could without a dryer. She gave it back to him, waiting until he pulled it back on and then snapping all the buttons for him. She adjusted his collar and asked, “Well, you ready to get back out there?”

He nodded slightly, reaching down to entwine his fingers with hers, a little surprised when she let him. He wasn’t as oblivious as everyone seemed to think he was, he had definitely noticed when Betty put an end to any touching between them and he had to admit he didn’t like it very much. Pulling him along, Betty brought him to a cushioned bench long enough they could sit side-by-side and curled her feet up underneath her as she turned to face him.

“I understand if you aren’t quite ready yet,” she started, “but could you tell me what happened to your dad, Arch?”

Archie sat quietly for a moment, staring at Betty’s hand where it rested on his lap, still clasped tightly in his. In a quiet voice, he began telling her everything, starting off slowly, haltingly, until he was speaking in a rush, almost as if he just had to get out the whole story. When he began his retelling of holding his father on the floor at Pop’s, he choked and had to stop, lowering his head so she wouldn’t see the tears welling up in his eyes. Suddenly, there were gentle fingers on his chin, tipping his head up to look at her. “You can stop, Archie. I know it’s hard.” He shook his head as tears finally started to spill over onto his cheeks. “Oh, Archie,” Betty whispered. She took her hand out of his, moving it to the back of his head, guiding it down to rest on her shoulder, while her other arm wrapped around him in a tight hug.

They sat like that for what felt like hours, until Archie was all sobbed out and lightly dozing into Betty’s neck as she stroked his hair. A crash jolted him awake and he sat up, peering at the direction of the noise, seeing one of the receptionists kneeling down to pick up the remains of an empty white coffee cup. He felt Betty’s arm drop to sit lightly around his lower back. He brought his hands up to scrub his face in exhaustion before letting them fall back to his lap. A door a few feet away from them opened up and a tired looking doctor came through, eyes searching until they landed on Archie, who grabbed Betty’s hand again before bringing the both of them to their feet to greet the doctor. “Mr. Andrews?” When Archie nodded, the doctor introduced himself. “I’m Dr. Matthews. We just got your dad out of surgery.”

“How is he?” Archie asked anxiously.

The doctor sighed a little before giving a small smile. “It was touch-and-go for a while. The bullet missed all his major organs, but there was obviously some deep internal bleeding that took a while for us to stop. We gave him a few blood transfusions and he should be just fine.” Archie whipped his head around to smile at Betty with hopeful eyes, grinning wider when she smiled back. Dr. Matthews took a deep breath, “But it might be a few days before he wakes up. An injury like that takes its toll on the body and mind. We do expect a full recovery, but he needs to heal on his own time.”

Archie’s smile had dropped, a frown creasing his eyebrows. “Well. When can I see him?” Betty’s hand tightened around his in a show of silent support.

Dr. Matthews clapped Archie on the shoulder. “I’d say give it about five hours. That gives you some time to shower and eat something. Maybe take a nap-you’ve been here about four hours.”

With that the doctor turned and went back through the door. Archie sat back down on the bench, one elbow propped on his knee, and his hand holding his forehead as he nearly sagged in relief.

He turned again to smile at Betty. “He’s gonna be okay, Bett.”

She smiled back at him, ruffling his hair. Then she frowned, squinting her eyes a little in confusion. “By the way, Arch,” she questioned, “where is Veronica? I thought that as your girlfriend she would be here for something as important as this.”

Archie felt his stomach drop as he realized he had unintentionally omitted one detail of his story-where he had spent the night. Then he wondered to himself, why hadn’t he called Veronica? It would have made sense. Truthfully, he didn’t know. All he knew was that in his moment of need, the only person he had wanted to see was Betty. Of course, he couldn’t outright admit that to her knowing that he had pretty much stomped on her feelings not long before.

So instead, he told her, “Veronica isn’t my best friend, Betty.” Betty gave him a sad smile and cupped his cheek again. She brought their foreheads together and closed her eyes, resting gently there for a moment before pulling back and standing up. She held her hand out to him waiting patiently for him to join her.

“Let’s get you back home, Archie. I’ll make you lunch while you’re in the shower.”

They walked out the hospital doors together, quickly finding the truck Archie had brought over from where his dad had parked it at Pop’s. Betty asked him for the keys, and for the first time since they’d gotten their licenses Archie didn’t object to the thought of Betty driving him. He was too tired to argue, and his thoughts kept wandering between guilt over not calling Veronica the “morning after” and questioning why he’d needed Betty there with him in the hospital so urgently that his girlfriend never even crossed his mind. He didn’t know.

It scared the shit out of him.

#barchie #betty x archie

9 notes · View notes

purkinje-effect · 6 years

Text

The Anatomy of Melancholy, 8

Table of Contents Go to first. Go to previous. Go to next.

(Updated 2019.01.29. Minor name tweaks.) Food squick tw.

At first, Carey thought he’d awoken to a hangover, but remembered he hadn’t had a drink the day before. He deduced dehydration when he couldn’t recall the last he’d drunk anything besides coffee. Jolting up on the lobby couch, he fretted over whether Angel had used the water reserves to make coffee the day before, or if the Handy had somehow used tap water. He squinted, too tired to speculate.

The morning ached in long stitches. He removed his dress shirt and threaded himself back into his spinal corset. In a fumble of beleaguered jerks, he adjusted the laces tight enough to his liking, then dropped his hands to either side of him. He stared out hollowly at the blown-out skeleton of the dropped ceiling at length before he even bothered with the rest of the orthotics, or even put his shirt back on. How much of the debris from downstairs had been the stuff from the dropped ceiling? By comparison, the ceiling on the second or third floors hadn’t made all that much mess. This line of thought, too, required more caffeine than he had in him.

He took his glasses and the Mentats tin and ambled into the break room. Alone, he shook the now-cold half-full percolator, but the idea of coffee turned him off for probably the first time in his life. Skimming the cabinets yielded nothing he thought might appease the intense nausea which beset him. The deteriorated, faded packages and the biting sourness of the fridge corner evinced his delusion that any preservatives in food from before his freeze would have kept them food-safe all these years. Even the Salisbury steaks felt suspect. Had any of the questionable things he’d eaten set off his stomach? Again, he worried about the unknown water source which had percolated his caffeine fix. He discarded these hindsights, and he settled on one of the three bottles of Melancholia which Angel had so graciously considered food rations in themselves. Surely, the nutritive substitute wouldn’t prove past its prime like everything else.

Like him.

Carey set the cane across a table, and sat and unscrewed the bottle. He nipped at it tiredly. After a few sips, he set it down and rubbed at his nose bridge with a grumble. Not even the syrupy horrid medicinal cherry flavor of Melancholia could wash out the sulfurous bouquet of the ‘smoothie’ which had permeated every surface of his mouth. In repeated attempt to liberate it of its increasingly rank coating, his tongue smeared against the roof of his mouth and his front teeth raked across his tongue. Irritable, he chugged the rest of the nutrient-fortified meal substitute, tossed the empty bottle in the sink, and wandered into the stock room again, flicking on the lights.

The heavy low set in as Carey paced about. Actually following dosing directions this time, he popped a Mentat under his tongue and let it dissolve sublingually. He recognized a need to meter his Mentats usage, without knowing the pharmacy’s stock. The wartime rations had affected everything, especially the public’s access to chems, and likely impacted availability even at warehouse levels. He couldn’t afford to risk profligacy with a cache of something which so readily defogged his frost-mired grey matter.

Deflated and restless, he shuffled about the stock room shelves. This time he had overhead light to facilitate skimming the overall supply at a glance, not just his Pip-Boy light. Bedpans. Gauze. Thermometers. All the saline, iodine, isopropyl alcohol, and witch hazel a medic could ask for. Needles and catgut. A variety of scissors, forceps, lances, scalpels, and the like, all rusted beyond any patent usefulness. A crate of walking canes beside the walkers. He gritted his teeth. He couldn’t use the box of Epsom salts without a place to soak, and he disowned the heartache of it by tossing the box unceremoniously back on the shelf where he’d found it.

Carey grunted as he unfolded the unrusted wheelchair to sit in it, and he hooked the cane between himself and the armrest, across the back and seat upholstery. With a few testing nudges at the chrome handrims, he resigned to tooling around the building in it for a bit. To try it out, he told himself. As he went along, he noted that walking put less strain on his upper body than wheeling himself, but he felt steadier. Compromise peddled him along by shuffling his feet. Though he still denied it, the altercation with the RadRoaches had enervated him. There would be more roaches. There always were. If he wanted to survive their next encounter, he’d have to make compromises like these. Besides, he couldn’t live in the orthotics, and until he could better determine the permanency he feared of his condition, he needed to acclimate to other modes of mobility.

The wheelchair set him on a different eye level, and he seized upon the hygiene section where it had previously eluded him. After all, he’d last bathed in 2077, and he felt that grime to the bone. His intent stare scanned the shelves. Mouthwash. Toothbrushes. Toothpaste. Dental floss. Hairbrushes and combs. Shampoos and bar soap. Towels and washcloths. Toilet paper, oh lord why hadn’t he considered the horror of running out of toilet paper. Unintelligible exasperation compelled the eager vault survivor to lay a towel across his lap and scoop a wide variety of these things into it. Holding back tears of excitement, he propelled himself to the second-floor bathroom like a deadline chased him. Before he even got there, a gob of toothpaste and the freshly unpackaged toothbrush already churned in his mouth. The paste didn’t taste like much of anything anymore, but it still very much did the trick.

He dumped his treasures into the bathroom floor beneath the sink, and hung up the towel and a washcloth on the handrail beside the toilet. The ceramic wall-mounted sink held his gaze as he continued to scour the taste of Angel’s deviled egg smoothie from his mouth. The mirror had fallen off the wall, but the pieces no longer littered the pale tile floor as they had yesterday, owing to Angel’s compulsive cleaning habits. He turned on the faucet and the wall gave up a metallic groan before pouring out sour gold-brown water. He let it run for a while, his eyes shut in meditative comfort slowly continuing to brush. He still distrusted the water, but the unyielding need for self-care stifled any concern.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” He turned the hot water handle up to max, to let it run. “I’d get irradiated?”

The stress of that permanent looming threat cracked through the froth into a weak, tickled chuckle. He expectorated, but kept brushing his tongue. Then, he noticed just how much blood he’d spat out, and stopped and watched it swirl down the sink, tongue slowly receding back into his mouth with a frown.

When the flow no longer appeared yellow from years trapped in the plumbing, he set the back of his hand beneath it. His Pip-Boy’s Geiger counter didn’t make a pip, but the faucet still ran cold. Just running the hot line demonstrated no diminished flow, so he deduced that rather than the boiler or plumbing impacting water pressure, the first floor’s breakers more likely must have fed the boiler for the building.

They’d have to excavate the first floor’s back room to survey. The building wouldn’t have a bathtub or shower, but perhaps eventually he might regain hot water without having to boil it in small batches with a hot plate. A plastic cup went under the faucet, and he swished with it a few cupfuls. The water garnered a distant contentment. Chasing it with a bit of mouthwash helped ease both the metallic flavor and his mind.

He pulled out all the bobby pins he could locate in his nest of hair, and put them in his slacks pocket. Locking the door out of habit, he disrobed and deposited his effects in the seat of the wheelchair. The first bar soap he unwrapped had gone rancid, but he opened a second to find it almost pristine. The shampoo smelled more like book paste now, but still flowed from the bottle well enough.

It wasn’t a bubble bath or an Epsom soak, and it was cold as hell, but it would have to do for now.

The soaps and such would remain in the bathroom, tucked in the floor beneath the sink. Carey sat in the wheelchair to reaffix his braces and binding, and put his glasses back on, but stopped short with his clothes and Pip-Boy in his lap. It irked him, the mess he’d made of his ensemble, but he couldn’t reasonably remedy it with just a small sink and bar soap. Surely, he could locate Abraxo venturing into town–if not in the supermarket, the high rises or their laundromat. He re-dressed and latched the bulky grey-green Pip-Boy back around his left wrist, then wandered back to the break room. He pushed the swing door open with his feet and wheeled himself inside, then shoved a chair aside to sit at a table, still drying his long, dark hair.

“Angel, a question: Did you brew the coffee yesterday with purified water, or with tap water?”

The pale blue Handy busied itself with… something in the far corner.

“Oh, Sir! Good afternoon!” It jammed the door of the fridge shut and rushed to refill the coffee cup it had cleaned when its owner had excused himself. It handed the lukewarm drink to him. “My word, though, what a question. I used the canned water! Was I not supposed to?”

“Oh, ah.” Though he knew now he could trust it, he stared into the black coffee. Somehow, the answer disappointed him. “No, it’s not that. I just realized this morning that clean water might be rarer than I thought. Coffee seems like it should stay a treat for now, unfortunately. Until we find a trustworthy water source. I need to test the water here for pathogens, but I don’t really have the tools or know-how for that.”

“If it pleases you, Sir, I might remind you that all General Atomics Mister Handies come standard issue with a network of condensators. Mine haven’t worked for some time, but perhaps were they operational again, I might… refine water for you?”

Nearly startled by the comment and its spectrum of implications, he looked up from his drink at the robot, still not having taken a sip. Of course, Angel was just as worse for wear as he was–it had operated, to his knowledge, the entire time he’d been in stasis. The condensators were nearly nonessential components of the robot, but if they’d stopped working, far more must also have. A remiss sorriness drained color from his face.

“I seem to have upset you, so let’s put that behind us for now. Forgive me for not having prepared your breakfast this morning, but you’ve told me in the past that if you had no engagements, to let you sleep… You look like you feel a thousand times improved.” Its ocular lenses flickered over him. “And… you did opt for the wheelchair, after all, I see.”

“I’m just trying it out.” Carey stiffened as he drank the stale beverage. “And yeah, a good wash does wonders, doesn’t it?” He hid gnashed teeth best he could, the stress leaching out the Melancholia from his flesh. “Say, how much bourbon have we got left?”

The Handy rummaged through its own back compartment to reach the glass bottles it had opted to keep in stow rather than shelve anywhere just yet.

“Roughly twelve ounces,” it said, eyeing the bottle once it had located it.

“Whiskey? Vodka?”

The chemist hadn’t really committed to memory the vestiges of the wet bars he’d cleaned out along the way.

“Besides the bourbon, you do have a bit of vermouth, rum, and vodka left as well. Though, I do recommend the bourbon if you intend to mix it with your coffee, Sir, since we’re without cream.”

“That’s all right. Bring me the rum, please.”

Angel obliged.

“Should we aim to restore a wet bar here? Perhaps we could locate a cache of liquor here in the ruins of Lexington, hm! Comb the high rises to lift your spirits, ha-ha!”

“Cute, Angel. …Once I’m acclimated to the building here, and to myself,” he interjected under his breath while he poured liberally, “we’ll have to do some supply runs. Bare minimum, shoulder our way past those… ghouls into the Super Duper Mart. Hopefully, they haven’t squatted the market in large numbers.” He took a swig of the doctored caffeine and slumped in his seat. “Lord, that was terrible the other day. I’m sure they’re not just in the market, though. I’m more worried about them than I am about my constitution. We’ll have to ready up for that.”

He refrained from mentioning any desire to visit Hawthorne at the Red Rocket.

“In the mean time, I’m confident we can certainly make this place quite cozy. Do you think it feels secure enough to work towards calling it home?”

“For a while, at least.” The smooth spiciness seeped into him, and the mellow returned a bit. He held his tongue, not to complain aloud of his lack of a bathtub. “But right now, I’m going to use the afternoon to take stock of the… equity of the lab.”

“I’ll be down here, if you need me, Sir.”

Carey tossed the towel down from around his neck, tired of rubbing at his hair.

“What were you doing when I came in, anyway?”

“Oh, well! I had hoped to clean out the refrigerator, since we’ve got power in this room again.” It demonstrated the trouble by re-opening it. A thick, fine-filament mass coated every surface, and wrinkled sac-like fruits bulged from it. “It will take some time, I’m afraid, but nothing a little pluck and elbow grease can’t remedy.”

“Are those…” He wheeled up closer, and noted the pale lime glow of the fungus. His face fell slack. “…That’s brain fungus. There must have been some cross-contamination from one of the technician’s lab coats, and the spores ended up in here. Or maybe, someone stored a sample in the fridge with all the food for some godawful reason. –Doesn’t matter how it got there, really.” He sniffed, his lip curling a touch. “Good lord, were’ looking at a lot of Mentats there.”

“Does this mean the mold bears some value to you, then?”

“Utmost.”

“But the appliance is so vile, Sir.”

“So is most of the building. I’ll manage.” Carey pointed at the Handy with a firm, accusatory glare. “Do not clean out that fridge. Not before I secure another place to harvest them from. I don’t know how rare they are now, or what kind of viable stock remains upstairs. Consider it the first medication I’ve touched upon so far that has given me legitimate reprieve from my… illness.” He grabbed his coffee cup to take it with him. “Speaking of viable stock, you know where to find me.”

“I wish you luck.”

Carey stopped short of the swing door and turned back to his Handy.

“You don’t happen to remember where the antifreeze from in Sanctuary ended up, do you?”

It knew exactly what he was on about, and suddenly it lit up at the opportunity to assist however needed in his procurement of the requested chemical.

“Ah! I know right where it is. Go on ahead to the laboratory. I’ll bring it to you!”

“Thank you. You’re an angel.”

Go to Next »»»

#fo4 fanfic #fallout 4 fanfic #sole survivor #sosu #fallout 4 #melancholy #food squick maybe

3 notes · View notes

genesissupplies · 4 years

Text

How to Clean a Bathroom in the Most Natural, Non-Toxic, and Eco-Friendly Way Possible

how-to-clean-a-bathroom-in-the-most-natural As luxurious as some bathroom designs are, any which one can get clogged with bacteria, unpleasant scents, and germs just like the rest of them. To keep a bathroom looking its best, of course, we clean!

The bathroom is one place where we use cleaning chemicals liberally to tidy the toilet, sink, shower, bathtub, and other accessories. This isn’t always a good thing. While the bathroom accumulates dirt faster than any other room, throwing on chemical after chemical leads to hazardous fumes being thrown into the air and residue that no one wants to come in contact with.

Although it’s easier to buy cleaners at the store to clean your bathroom, it’s not always environmentally friendly. Thankfully, there’s a way to clean a bathroom with non-toxic, eco-friendly cleaners.

How do I use microfiber cloths in a bathroom?

A microfiber cloth is a great cleaning tool, for use in and outside the bathroom. Microfiber materials are superior than your everyday cleaning rag, wiping away germs and tough grime. Microfiber cloths won’t leave any threads behind and the cloths can be used repeatedly. Numerous studies have shown how these cloths can greatly reduce the amount of cleaning solutions you have to use. This ultimately means less chemicals, less smells, and without affecting the performance of your clean.

What is the best natural cleaner for the bathroom?

The best eco-friendly cleaner for the bathroom is a combination of white vinegar, baking soda, and water. You don’t need anything else. By balancing these three ingredients, you create a cleaner that’s just abrasive enough and just acidic enough to cut through almost anything in a bathroom.

How do I clean a shower, bathtub, and sink?

Looking around a bathroom, you may have a shower, bathtub, and sink to clean. These are cleanings that can be done with vinegar and water, or baking soda and water. The acid in the vinegar is particularly effective at breaking down soap scrum and other stains that can accumulate in a washroom. If you find that this isn’t working very well, you can say you tried. Chemicals aren’t needed yet. There are eco-friendly shower and sink cleaners available, well worth trying before you have to grab a chemical.

How do I clean bathroom tiles with grout?

There’s moisture in the bathroom with oftentimes nowhere to go. This results in moisture sinking between your tiles and creating grout. Some people prefer to use bleach to wipe away any bacteria on their bathroom tiles. Do not do this! Instead, take some scouring powder, your microfiber cloth, and a bucket of water. Mix 70 grams of scouring powder into your water. Use your cloth to cover the floor with it. Then, wipe away.

If your tiles are particularly dirty, an alternative to the soft microfiber cloth is to use a toothbrush. How you can do this is by mixing in scouring powder with roughly 50 ml of water, creating a paste that can be applied over the tougher stains that don’t want to come out.

How do I hygienically clean a toilet with natural products?

Take 150 ml of white vinegar and pour it into the toilet bowl. Let it sit for 30 minutes. Then, use a scrubbing brush lined with a scouring powder to work the inside. If needed, put more scouring powder on problematic areas. When done, flush it gone and you’re good. Contrary to what cleaning aisles will tell you, you don’t need a specific toilet bowl cleaner to clean a toilet. Environmentally safe chemical-free alternatives exist.

How do I clean the bathroom mirror with eco-friendly cleaners?

The bathroom mirror is relatively easy to clean although you want to make sure not to leave behind any streaks. Simply use a half-and-half mix of vinegar and water. This high-strength all-natural cleaner is going to work wonders cleaning any glass mirrors or windows. If you find the smell to be too overwhelming, you can pair it with some of your favourite essential oils. Combine this with a microfiber cloth and you shouldn’t leave any streaks nor threads behind to disgrace your mirror.

How do I unclog my drain without using chemicals?

Sometimes cleaning a bathroom involves unclogging a drain, be it in the sink, shower, or tub. Rarely is a call to a plumber needed. The first thing we recommend is using a drain unclogging snake. These can be purchased at any Walmart for a few dollars. You stick them down a drain, remove them, and along with the snake comes all the hair and gunk that’s probably creating clogs.

Alternatively, if you have a partially clogged drain, pour boiling water down the drain. Add baking soda after and give it a few minutes. Then take some white vinegar and more boiling water, pouring both over the baking soda. Contain the reaction as best as you can inside the drain. Leave it for a couple minutes and then, rinse everything away. If your drain is still there, use a plunger or try going at it with the snake. It works like a charm!

How do I know if my bathroom fan is in need of cleaning?

When we clean a bathroom, there’s a lot to focus on. We unfortunately don’t tend to look up to the extractor fan. If you do though, you may find lingering odors around it. If this is the case, a clean should fix it up real nice. A fan blocked by dust ends up packing in moisture and creates one very damp washroom. You can take the vacuum dusting attachment and suck any dust out that way. Alternatively, you can get on a step ladder and get more hands-on with it. You don’t have to do this very often but it doesn’t hurt to give it a look every three months or so.

What areas in the bathroom do cleaners forget about?

There are several areas in the bathroom that cleaners ignore or forget about but these areas absolutely require a regular clean. These areas include cabinet fronts, dust on countertops and shelves, windowsills and window tracks, baseboards, doorknobs, door frames, and light switches and other common touch points.

For eco-friendly bathroom cleaners, we want to help. You won’t regret switching to natural ingredients. They work just as well at chemicals and can be made DIY or purchased in bulk via Genesis Supplies. Buy non-toxic cleaners in Canada for your bathroom today.

Source: https://www.genesissuppliesinc.ca/how-to-clean-a-bathroom-in-the-most-natural-non-toxic-and-eco-friendly-way-possible

#Cleaning Bathroom #eco-friendly Cleaning Products Canada #Cleaning Bathroom in the Most Natural Way Possible #Cleaning Bathroom in the Most Non-Toxic Way Possible #Cleaning Bathroom in the Most Eco-Friendly Way Possible #clean bathroom tiles with grout #clean a toilet with natural products #clean the bathroom mirror with eco-friendly cleaners #unclog drain without using chemicals

0 notes

ecotone99 · 5 years

Text

[SP] Quantum Toilet

The bathroom had turned back into a kitchen again. That was the problem with this new fancy-schmancy superpositional plumbing, Sarah reflected. It was all great and space-saving and efficient (a pipe is a pipe after all, regardless what’s going through it) until it all malfunctioned. That’s when you ended up with – best case scenario – someone suddenly finding themselves pooping in the sink in front of a terrified cereal-eating shipmate and – worse case scenario – finding themselves body-horrored halfway into a porcelain bowl, with a cistern where their vital organs were supposed to be. Sarah had just given up flicking the manual override switch on the wall, which only seemed to make the kitchen flicker a bit, like a cheap hologram. She squinted and yes, there it was: the beautifully utilitarian military-grade shower-toilet combo, somehow occupying the same space as the kitchen and yet also not, messing with Sarah’s depth perception and causing her stomach to lurch, as though it wanted to leave not only her body but the strange doubleroom itself. But Sarah had priorities. She closed one eye completely and started moving slowly around the room. The existence of the kitchen and bathroom both seemed to wax and wane periodically as she moved about, trying to find the ideal spot. Aaaand... there. She opened both eyes and found herself standing in what was unquestionably a bathroom. She breathed a sigh of relief, before the question hit her. The question of how she was supposed to use the toilet from two metres away.

She was distracted from her thoughtful contemplations on non-Euclidean bladder voidance and context-sensitive geometry by a great wailing siren rose up from the ether. She swore loudly as the bathken was bathed in amber light. Biological functions be damned, her ship was in trouble.

Captain Sarah Li of the Starship Centauri strode out of the room with what she hoped was an air of composed gravitas. She then, with all the dignity that her high ranking position granted her, struggled to remove some of the kitchen-roll/toilet-paper that was stuck to her heel with her other boot (one thing that did not change with the room was the paper, which was equally coarse and sandpapery in each of its purposes). She marched down the corridor, sirens still crying all about, with bodies bustling and voices barking. The corridor widened to present a massive door that slid open before her. She entered the command room. Here the panic was even greater, the orange flashing all the more dramatic, throwing bold shadows of the various ship officers moving and yelling and commanding and sweating. Various control desks and monitors all circled a hologram in the centre of the room showed a wireframe schematic of their ship slowly rotating, dire red text arrowing out of it all over. The ship model then exploded, and not in the schematic sense.

Sarah did her best to appear assertive, commanding and in control, which is difficult to do when you A) have absolutely no idea what is going on and B) you’re absolutely bursting for a piss. But if she was one thing, it was professional.

‘Attention!’ she bellowed out. The din quietened down. ‘Someone, gimme a sit-rep.’ This was captain for ‘I’m confused and scared and human, but I really need you to not know that right now’.

‘We’re under attack, Captain,’ the little ratty-faced Rep Officer Branley piped up from behind a display twice his size. ‘One assailant, about naught three GUs behind us. Must be a stealth ship, popped right up on our tail withou-’

‘What’s the issue?’ Sarah interrupted. ‘Have they not tried to open communications with us?’

‘No Captain. They’ve opened fire.’ His voice crackled a little from fear. ‘A 85 quad-megaton warhead.’

‘Christ. Can our defences handle it?’

‘No, Captain. It’s a military grade KL6, same as ours. Can turn a planet to dust, and it’s way too fast for our anti-missile missiles. We have maybe twenty seconds until we’re-’

‘Dust, got it.’ Think, Sarah, think. They couldn’t take it down and they certainly couldn’t outrun it. She scoured her brain for a course of action. There was only one, and she knew it, but she really, really didn’t want to go there.

‘Captain?’

‘Shut it, Branley. I’m thinking.’

‘It’s just th-’

‘Complete destruction, I’m aware.’ Sarah did her best not to sigh out loud. It wasn’t very captainly. ‘Janowski, listen up.’

Chief Tech Officer Janowski attempted to snap a salute at Sarah, but mostly achieved launching a rivulet of sweat off her hand at one of her crewmates.

‘Y-y-yes Captain!’

‘Stop quivering and listen up, Janowski. We’re gonna hit the T-Drive and get the fuck out of here.’

‘Captain? The... T-Drive?!’

‘You’re making a puddle, Janowski. Yes, the T-Drive. I know, I know. But right now we don’t have much choice. We warp or we die.’

‘There’s no chance we can get a safe route that fast!’

‘Then get us a half safe one. Now, Janowski!’ Sarah looked around the room. The sirens still wailed, but the terrified hubbub had died. All eyes were on their Captain. ‘Anyone have a better idea? No? Then do what you’re told.’

Janowski was struggling, typing furiously at her station, eyes shooting from monitor to monitor, sweating profusely. Other tech officers were checking calculations and running simulations, making rapid guesses and heuristic analyses and just plain old shots in the dark. The hubbub was rising again, the fearful intensity boiling up higher than ever. Some crew members were even crying, praying, saying their last goodbyes. If we somehow get through this, Sarah thought, those lot are getting fired.

‘In the meantime: computer, open a broadcast channel. Unencrypted, on all frequencies. Begin transmission. To whomever just opened fire on a military vessel: congrats. You’re already dead. End transmission.’

‘Ten seconds to impact!’ yelled Branley.

Even Sarah could feel a trickle of cold sweat down her back. Janowski meanwhile was nearly hyperventilating when she finally blurted out ‘Warp systems ready! Well, I mean...’

‘It’ll do. Hit it.’

Kowlaski’s finger hovered over the big red button. Sarah wondered would she have to be the one to do it. K was a good tech, but wasn’t exactly spectacular under pressure.

‘Five seconds to impact!’

Janowski closed her eyes and pushed the button. Everything got weird.

For centuries and centuries reputable physicists the world over declared time travel impossible. Many won important prizes for proving how impossible it really was. The only issue was that the more prizes they won, the more futurefolk that showed up at these scientists’ homes to make fun of them.

The first person to prove that time travel was definitively doable was Jreel Dartull. Dartull was walking to work one icy morning, when he suddenly slipped and somehow fell into the moment of his own birth. Shortly after the hospital staff had powerhosed Jreel’s mother off the maternity ward walls work began on reverse engineering the event. The resulting method was an odd one, furtively ignoring the laws of physics in the hope that nobody important noticed. This tech was the basis of the T-Drive, capable of warping a cruise vessel to any given point in space-time, provided the drive was given a few minutes to calculate a safe path and it was feeling nice that day. If it wasn’t – well, the vessel coming in contact with even a single unaccounted-for molecule would cause instant and violent annihilation. Even at its safest (i.e. not very safe at all) warping through space-time felt a lot like getting forced through a straw with the gentle encouragement of a sledgehammer. At it’s worst it felt more like-

More like her skin was tightening inwards, crushing and suffocating her organs. Her muscles tensed and ached and her bones felt as though they’d be ground into powder. The lights became overbright, scorching her retinas, but her eyelids were pulled back so hard she couldn’t close them. All around her Sarah saw more and more warnings flash on screens, scrolling sidewards and backwards. In that slow orange strobe she could have sworn she saw Janowski rapidly de-age into a baby (not that it made a huge difference). Sarah’s body pumped out all the adrenaline it had and in a fraction of a second a million regrets went through her mind. She regretted not taking the time to open her heart, to make real friends, to find love. To be do more than just work and climb her way up that ladder. Above all else she regretted not having a personal toilet installed in her office.

And then it was over. The siren had changed, taking on an even more urgent tone. Red text flashed on every screen in the room. The orange strobe had turned a deep brick-red. And yet, somehow, they were all still alive.

‘Janowski,’ Sarah croaked out, rubbing her rapidly decompressing throat. ‘Where are we? When?’

‘Eh... exactly where we were, maybe thirty, thirty-five seconds ago?’

Sarah looked around. People were crying tears of joy, hugging, breathing sighs of relief. Do these people do any actual work?, Sarah thought bitterly. Like most discerning sci-fi readers she hated time-travel. Plus, they still had an unknown assailant to deal with. ‘That siren isn’t sounding so good.’

‘No, no it’s not,’ piped up Bramley. ‘Every system on board is screaming. Multiple catastrophic errors. Oxygen and main engine are still online though, so we might be alright. Also, I don’t think the calendar is fit to deal with rapid jumps.’ He pointed at the right-hand wall where the display claimed it was ERRORth day of a month whose name appeared to be rendered as a small cocker spaniel.

‘No, but we got bigger fish. Where’s our little friends?’

‘We got a lock-on on their ship. Naught-three out. And they haven’t fired yet.’

‘Perfect. We got these pricks with their pants down. Open fire.’

‘But-’

‘Branley, how many times do I have to tell you to shut up? I don’t know who these cuddlefucks are, but they’re trying to kill us. So we gotta kill them first. Open. Fire.’

Munitions Officer Kotei yes Captained and pushed the big red button (you’d be surprised how many big red buttons there are on the average spaceship). That’s what Sarah liked about Kotei. That’s why he was the munitions head. He didn’t fuck about, he just did as he was told.

‘Missile out and inbound on our target. Impact in T minus twenty.’

‘Thank you, Officer.’ Sarah smiled over at Branley. She couldn’t wait to fire him. Into the nearest sun, preferably.

But Branley was busy manipulating the ship’s status display, intensely examining where they were, where they had been (or would be; logic and tenses are the first out the window when time travel comes knocking). Then he looked at his captain. Something was dawning behind those beady little rodent eyes. His jaw very slowly dropped and his eyes very slowly widened. It was only then that it hit Sarah. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

‘INCOMING BROADCAST’, the intercom announced.

Sarah closed her eyes and remembered the good old days, when this job was straightforward. Before time travel. When she could go to the bathroom in relative peace. The past, she reflected, isn’t what it used to be.

The broadcast began:

‘To whomever just opened fire on a military vessel: congrats. You’re already dead.’

submitted by /u/LJRoddy [link] [comments] via Blogger http://bit.ly/2YEdCn8

#Blogger #Story

0 notes

cloudwomensquarterly · 6 years

Text

So Fresh and So Clean Clean By Nahui Ollin Paredes

It’s that time of the year again, National Poetry Writing Month - you know the tortuous — a poem a day for thirty days, and it’s also Spring cleaning time. Yay!

Time to go through those closets and gift or recycle anything you haven’t worn for more than a year, to store the winter clothes, and to get out the lighter weight ones... that’s of course if you live in areas where the weather is at all predictable anymore, but I digress. This article is more about what we use to clean with and some suggestions of natural cleaners to use as alternatives to the more noxious and toxic ones we all grew up using like bleach, oven cleaner, that blue toilet bowl stuff and on and on. The same products we’ve always been told are the only effective cleaners to get out grime, odor, and germs. But exposure to chemicals used to make these household cleaners can have adverse effects on our health. A recent study by Scientists at Norway’s University of Bergen, which tracked 6,000 people over two decades, found that lung function decline in women who regularly used the products, as in those who worked cleaning for a living, was equal to those with a 20-cigarette daily smoking habit.

So here’s a list of some alternatives you probably have in your fridge or pantry that you might try this Spring and on into the future.

Lemons

Lemons are natural disinfectants because of their antibacterial properties. For many, the refreshing citrus smell exemplifies cleanliness. ( Use lemon juice on cutting boards - kills bacteria, in garbage disposals - throw in the rinds to freshen, and in the laundry - 1/2 c. lemon juice added to rinse cycle brightens whites.)

Salt

Good old-fashioned table salt can be used as an abrasive cleaner. (Again on cutting boards - you can mix with lemon, for caked-on foods on baking pans, and as a soak for pots/pans.)

Vinegar

Baking soda

Tea tree oil

It’s April, so if you’re not going to Spring clean write poetry instead, or better yet — do both!

Happy Spring!

Nahui Ollin Paredes is a world traveler, dreamer, writer, and wise woman. She loves to brew up herbal concoctions, cook for family and friends and finds comfort in the alchemy of the kitchen. ♡

#Cloud Women's Quarterly Journal Spring 2018 #Spring Cleaning #Natural Cleaning Solutions #CWQJ Spring 2018

1 note · View note