homemade laundry detergent

I've known it was possible to make one's own detergent for at least a year, but assumed it would be harsh on clothing. A little Googling revealed that most people have actually found that homemade detergent is better for clothing. I read through a few recipes and decided to go with powdered detergent. Unfortunately, the big-box stores in my area have never heard of Borax or washing soda. Amazon.com has, but I'm not paying $9 to ship $9 worth of ingredients. Ace Hardware had a free ship-to-store option and a decent coupon code, but only sold multipacks. $83 for what looks to be several years' worth of detergent is a good deal...but not for someone who doesn't even know if she will like the stuff.

Then, quite randomly, I was in a grocery store about 40 minutes away...and just happened to find all three ingredients right there in the laundry aisle. Sold!

Here is what you need: Washing soda, Borax, and Fels-Naptha soap. I believe Zote or Dove can be substituted for Fels-Naptha, but Fels-Naptha is specifically labeled a "laundry soap" and I've been pleased with it.

Grate the soap until you have 2 cups. I used a cheese grater and then food-processed it. I also tried cutting the soap into chunks and processing it that way. Either way works, but if your processor is more of a "lite" model, you should grate before processing.

In a bowl, mix 2 cups Fels-Naptha, 1 cup Borax, and 1 cup washing soda. Mix, then process. This detergent won't leave any kind of a scent on your clothing; if you want to add in some essential oils, do it while the detergent is in the processor. I used a coconut lemongrass blend; lavender, lavender tea tree, lavender lemon, or lemon would be lovely, too.

Use 1 tablespoon for a regular load and 2 tablespoons for a heavy or heavily soiled load. This detergent is not sudsy, so don't fret if you don't see bubbles. If you want nice, soft clothes, pour a little white vinegar in the fabric softener dispenser. I usually air-dry everything but linens and gym socks and plain vinegar does a great job at removing the soap residue that causes stiffness. Pardon me while I cringe at all the money I've wasted on Snuggle's vanilla sandalwood fabric softener when half a cup of cheap-o white vinegar does the job!

Honestly, this is fantastic stuff. Didn't bother my sensitive skin at all. Dirt cheap if you can find the ingredients locally. I've since been told that if your local Walmart doesn't carry all three of the ingredients, pool supply stores, stores with large Hispanic customber base, and old-timey general stores are all good places to look.

Store in an closed container with spoons for measuring. If your Lab confused a pitcher with a chew toy, this is a good use for it :)

How to apply for an apartment

I'm trying to get two apartments rented, and, oh, the things people say!

1. Upon meeting your prospective landlord, do not ask her the best place in the neighborhood to "get my drink on." I do not rent to party animals. If, however, you are a borderline obsessive-compulsive neatnik who spends her evenings knitting and watching Masterpiece Theatre, feel free to throw that in.

2. Do not tell your prospective landlord that you have mastered the art of removing store security devices from computer software packages. I'm sure your "art" requires a unique combination of fine motor skills and loose morals, but keep it to yourself.

3. When filling out a rental application, do not write "none of your business" on the line asking for annual income.

4. When your prospective landlord asks for clarification when you write "other" or "it's complicated" for a source of income and you still remain vague, I will presume you are a drug dealer or escort.

5. Do not list your college GPA. I don't care. Congrats on Dean's List...12 years ago.

6. If you have an unneutered pitbull, do not call him a "Lab mix." If you have a Rottweiler, do not call him a "Lab mix."*

7. Do not tell your prospective landlord that your hobbies include dying wool. I can see my beautiful floors stained fuschia already.

8. If you do things like confirming the showing date, showing up on time, etc. I will think you are a responsible person. I will think you are a responsible person who will take care of the apartment if you follow-up with a thank you.

9. For heaven's sake, keep your thoughts on Obama, health care reform, and tort reform to yourself. No need to get crazy and peel off your Obama bumper sticker, but unsolicited, unrelated political philosophies are highly unnecessary. And you probably don't want to hear my thoughts on any of the above.

10. Do not look at the wonderful kitchen island with a big range and pendant lighting and say, "man, this is perfect for beer pong night!"

11. If the apartment comes with a grill, do not tell me you are a strict vegan and that I will need to provide you with a new grill. Guess who isn't getting provided with an apartment?

*I have nothing against pits or Rotties...but my insurance carrier does.

Cleanliness:Godliness::Organization:?

I have a little too much of an interest in organization. It comes at the unfortunate expense of cleanliness, which means that I elect to alphabetize the DVDs before doing the dishes. Color-code my shirts before washing the floors. Inventory the bath products before scrubbing the toothpaste off bathroom mirror.

And so on.

I recently came into an assortment of 50 or so Mason jars, mostly in the half-gallon size. My eyes lit up and my heart may have gone pitter-pat. While I would like to get into canning this summer, there is no need to let dozens of storage solutions get dusty, now is there?

Oh, how those two litle words - storage solution - make me swoon.

Every single thing in my kitchen that would fit into a jar found its way there.


Red beans.
Black beans, too.

Lentils.

Brown sugar and oats.

And so on, filling up more than four dozen jars with beans, rice, pastas, flours, teas, powders, seeds, and nuts.

I knew I had to stop when I found myself eyeing something black and yappy for the last jar.

Instead, I dashed out for 2lbs of Sour Patch Kids. Truly, a staple.
Every single non-perishable has been jarred and tucked away. I'm simply basking in the glow of an organizational high. I was temped to go grab a neighbor and show her what I accomplished - because, you know, I'm five years old and need a gold sticker - but, I can only be that crazy new neighbor to so many people. Half of them have seen me nekkid and the other half won't be trick-or-treating at my house any more. I did the next best thing and phoned another unemployed lawyer, who came over, ooohhed and aaahhhed over my madskillz...and then dumped out my Sour Patch Kids and went all tribal sand art on them.
Clearly, I've met my match.

house arrest

Still snowed in! As of Saturday night, the snow hit mid-thigh and higher in the drifts.

Friend's home is smack in the middle of suburbia. Nothing to do but bounce off the walls. Yesterday, I slept in until 8am. By 10am Friend remarked that "surely, it was noon somwhere" and, by 1pm, had pushed a rather large glass of wine in my hand. I took that as a polite little hint to take my hyperactive self for a run. Three out of four dogs declined to join me. I'm not familiar with Friend's neighborhood- she only moved here a month ago - and, with blinding white-out conditions, managed to get totally lost. Fortunately, folks out in suburbia are rather considerate and happy to point the way back to some salve-smeared disoriented loon...who was only actually only a block from the house.

The plows are not so considerate and heaped a mountain of snow practically smack against my rear bumper. My car is big and robust, but has its limits! Let's just say I'll be able to skip "arms day" at the gym for a few days.

In the meantime, both Friend and I are out of dog food. Human food is running out, too. I'm keeping a close eye on the limited toilet paper supply. Oh, and another, potentially massive, storm is predicted to hit mid-week. Yikes.

Otherwise, all is well. Friend layered up to walk to the nearest convenience store 3/4 away. I would have joined her on the trek, but, because I prepared extremely well for a well-predicted blizzard, I left my boots, gloves, coat, and common sense at my own house. In a rare departure from my over-achieving, safety-loving self, I arrived at Friend's home on Friday night clad only in a hoodie and jeans. I am presently waiting for my coffee :) and preparing Friend a surprise lunch of poached eggs, jalapeno, and avocado made in the cutest little miniature Dutch ovens you ever did see.

Some of Jack. These were from Saturday morning - an additional foot or so had fallen by the afternoon. The other three pups had the good sense to remain indoors.

sparkles and snow

Well, the kitchen is 100% clean. It sparkles. I probably sprayed, wiped, foamed, scrubbed, washed, lathered, rinsed, and repeated with enough chemicals to qualify as a hazardous waste site, but that's ok.

I can't do normal person clean, you see. The normal person would wipe down the surfaces and survey the fridge for potential spoilage.

Not me.

The fridge is perfectly sterile, as is every other appliance. Every single crevice has been vacuumed and scrubbed with a Q-tip. The contents of the cabinets are in perfect order. Every pot, pan, and rack got hit with an SOS pad. Not a single smeared fingerprint on any cookbook. The baseboards, windows, curtains, curtain rods, barstools, artwork - all immaculate. Adrian Monk would die of bliss. It is actually a bit frightening to behold.

Knowing me, it won't stay like this for long.

---

We are predicted to get up to 2 feet of snow today. That really isn't that much, but in my neck of the woods, an inch or so causes Mass Chaos. Many schools were canceled or dismissed early in anticipation.

I see you shiver with antici

pation.

I will likely take the pups to a friend's house when it starts as getting snowed in with a friend for me and two for Jack is far more pleasant than dealing with a perpetually hyperactive dog trapped indoors. Her two girls are utterly smitten with Jack and don't leave him alone for a moment, which produces a few hours of chaos and then twelve blessed hours of comatose dogs.

Smitten.
Coma.

Coco'nut spends these playdates hibernating, occasionally poking out a crotchedy nose at the whipperschnappers. It is the rare dog who entices her to play and, until then, she is content to perch atop a pile of purloined bones and beneath a blanket.

Get Off My Lawn!

Off to pick up an exciting freecycle item, top off the gas tank, and select an assortment of naughty, snowed-in-on-a-weekend delicacies.

Have a lovely weekend!

If I'm not around for a little while, it's because I have a few housekeeping matters to attend to.

Picture credits.

karma

I rent out several garages. Two of the tenants owe 5 months' rent, and I wrote each an as-kind-as-possible letter informing each that I padlocked their units and will remove the locks when they pay the balance. Never one to get all snippy and lawerly, I noted that I understand that the economy has hit most of us hard, that I myself have been unemployed for nearly a month, and that I am happy to work out a fair payment plan if a single lump payment would be a hardship given the upcoming holidays. I certainly don't want anyone to go without a turkey or heat or Christmahanukwanza, but those garages pay a decent chunk of this property's mortgage, and my savings are not unlimited.


I'm a super-nice landlord. I never charge a late fee. I return all phone calls promptly. Heck, I give every single tenant a Christmas gift because, I reason, a $15 gift card will keep most tenants happy and happy tenants tend to not jack up your property. That's ROI for ya. (The furry tenants, of course, get some homemade treats...and the furparents have always, without fail, vacated without so much as a single stray dog hair on the floor.)


The first guy was extremely apologetic and beyond embarrassed...he thought his son had been paying all along. I know that he received the letter at 10:36am on Wednesday and, around noon the same day, he dropped off a certified check at my mailbox. With a sizeable Starbucks gift card.


The second guy...


He signed for the letter at 4:31pm on Wednesday. Early Thursday morning, I went to the garages to remove the lock I put on the first guy's unit. I noticed that the lock on the second garage had been CUT and replaced with a NEW lock at some point on Wednesday.


Now, these garages are right behind the house I'm living in. I was home ALL day Wednesday. Jack ate a 24oz bottle of bubble bath Tuesday afternoon and spent all Tuesday night un-eating lavender-scented bubbles on my living room floor. Which was considerate of him. Anyway, I did not leave the house for even a moment on Wednesday because I wanted to keep an eye on his fluid levels. (My floors are fine. Jack is, too.)


There are two driveways on my property. The main one was blocked by my car. The rear driveway was also blocked ALL week - I let my neighbor's son park his car there as he was on vacation all week and didn't want to leave it on city streets for so long. Which means that this guy jumped my backyard fence on Wednesday night, cut off my lock, and replaced it.


On Thursday morning, I was chatting with my neighbor. He mentioned that the guy showed up around 6am Thursday and ORDERED my neighbor to move the car. My neighbor politely declined. (He has physical limitations that make getting into his son's high-off-the-ground truck impossible). The guy said, "I will be back at 7am on Friday, and your car better be gone." The guy also muttered a word directed at my neighbor's ethnicity which my neighbor's ethnic ears picked up. My neighbor mentioned this to me, and we had a good laugh. I also decided, just to be on the safe side, to file a police report for the cut lock. Not to press charges or anything, but just to have something on the record in the event anything happened later. The cop, neighbor, and I couldn't believe this guy's stupidity. Obviously, I knew where I would be at 7am.


The guy showed up right at 7am with a truck. I decided not to confront him - anyone crazy enough to cut off a lock is not worth 5 months' rent. I watched him from my bathroom window, and, when he left, I went to survey what, if anything, was left in the unit.


My neighbor and I were pleasantly surprised that a pallet of over 1000 large boxes remained - I planned to try and Craigslist the moving boxes for a few hundred bucks or at least get someone to haul them away for free.


Side note: moving boxes are expensive! You can get clean, free boxes from liquor stores, or hit up friends who work in offices or who work as drug reps.


The guy then returned for the boxes. He was NOT expecting to see me. I walked over and began lifting the boxes into his van. His jaw, at the point, was on ground.


"Bet you weren't expecting me. I'm going to help you," I said. "Here, let me do that." Silence. Cheerfully, I lifted stack after stack into his car, and tucked in the empty Dunkin' Donuts cup he left on the ground - my ground - for good measure. Total silence. Finally, as I shoved in the last stack, I looked him right in the eye and said, "You owe me $x. You owe me the lock you cut off the other night. But I'm not going to get it. You and I both know that. I'm not going to sue you and I'm not pressing charges. But I do need to tell you one thing: Karma is a bitch." I paused, then added, "you have a great day now."

Side note: I don't really believe in karma, but I do watch My Name is Earl. I don't care that it is a front for Scientology. It is a happy show with a happy, complete ending in 30 minutes. No dead bodies a la CSI. No rapes a la SVU. No vampires. No sex. Just a cute moral dilemma with a cute moral solution. If I wanted to deal with horrifically mangled bodies or souls destroyed by rape, I would have stayed at work, thank you very much.


As he got into his van and prepared to pull away, I motioned for him to roll down his window.


"You tell [his wife] that [my former colleage] says hi."


Silver-dollar eyes.

"Oh, and [current client of guy's business] says hi, too."

Silver-dollar eyes widened to [insert a larger such coin here.]


"Small world, I know," I remarked. And then he drove away.


This guy has a very unique first name. Think "MoonChild" or "Sandalwood" or "SunDancer." (Evidently, his hippie parents neglected to teach their little "Kozmik" about karma...). By chance, a few months ago a colleage overhead me leaving him a voicemail reminding him that he owed rent and we learned that my colleague is best friends with his wife. As in, their mothers grew up on the same block, my colleague has been BFFs with the guy's wife since toddlerhood, and my colleague and this guy are neighbors.

And THEN...this guy's business deals a lot with pharma sales reps. It just so happens that one of his biggest clients is a sales rep who - drumroll - is the owner of Jack's best two canine friends.


Such a small, small world.


I didn't really care about the back rent. Yes, money is good and I would have liked to have had it, but, at the end of the day, I'm not going to battle over it when the guy knows where I sleep at night. I was, however, furious about the $15 lock he cut. Furious. And I wasn't happy that he ordered around and insulted my neighbor, who not only looks like Gandhi, but acts like him, too.


So while I have zero expectations of getting any money, I do know that this guy will probably feel guilty and/or like a big ol' loser every time he sees his neighbor (my former colleage) or his biggest client (my friend). Even better, his business just moved right next to my cobbler. They share a small parking lot. I see my sweet cobbler about once a month - YOU try walking on cobblestone and gravel in pointy heels! - and I can only imagine that the sight of my car in his lot will make him feel guilty. Or wonder when karma is smack him upside the head. Bwahahaha.

Sing it with me: It's a smaaaaaaaaall world after all...

And while it is decidedly wrong for me to feel a teeny bit of glee knowing that he will feel like a big guilty loser whenever he sees my car...I can't help it. I am praying that if there is a reason he was unable to pay the rent - downturn in business, health care bills, etc. - that his finances/health/etc. improve. So...see? When I'm not making beaver jokes, talking about sexxx as I share particularly yummy recipe, or insinuating that your mother is fast, cheap, and easy...I can actually have break-through moments of capital-M Maturity.


At the very least, he got a belated Halloween scare.

Now, I know that all of you had your finger glued to the "refresh" button when I mentioned a very cool barn-related item on Tuesday.

And today I'm going to show it to you.

All the way from 1922...

It is a Wanted poster that was glued to an inner barn wall until one of the tenants carefully peeled it off and gave it to me.
I had the framer use a mottled dark red matte; the poster has been in a mottled red barn for 87 years.
Sorry to black out all the names. I just don't want any of you cozying up to Google and figuring out where I live. (I'm still in the process of gutting and rehabbing where I'm living, so it is very messy. And I'd be embarrassed to have you see that the fridge is temporarily living in my bedroom and that the bathroom doesn't have doors yet. Or hot water.)

I love it more and more every time I look at it!

***
I'm totally smitten with Lady Gaga's album The Fame. I'm also a little embarrassed to admit this. It is fabulous 5am gym music. And the fact that harlequin Great Danes have a presence in Poker Face is entirely coincidental. Does "listen to Poker Face, Paparazzi, The Fame, and Just Dance" count as "useful"?

We've moved.

Remember all those barn photos? I now live in the house on the same property. It's only 10 minutes outside the city, but, man, it's suburbia.
A rather sudden move, too. There was a random violent incident - shaken and some nasty cuts and bruises, otherwise fine save for the unfortunate fact I have to don long sleeves in August heat for a few weeks - and I decided that maybe I don't want to live in the city anymore. Not if I can't remember all my self-defense tactics when, you know, I actually need them. Because that's the key, really. When you think about it.

Also, because what I was paying to live in the city place was dwarfed by what I could - and did - rent it out for. Which is good because the job situation is uncertain; bad because I had to end that sentence with a preposition and I'm feeling uncomfortable. Moving on. On. Moving on to another subject.

I am fairly certain that I am the whiskey tango of the new neighborhood.
You see, I have a great big front porch here and I'm not afraid to use it. It took me less than a week to figure out that while everyone else has cute little wrought-iron chairs and tables on their front porches, they are there purely for decoration. Jack and I sometimes like to sit outside with a glass of wine and a bone, respectively, and watch the fireflies on the front lawn. Because we have a front lawn now, not just a tiny backyard between the house and the alley. Back to sitting on the front porch: traaaahh-shy. "I guess it could be worse," I imagine the neighbors whispering to each other.

Also, I think this is one of two duplexes in town. I always live in a duplex: let someone else pay for the mortgage! And I like knowing that, in an emergency, there are people around. But I digress. Do you know what "duplex" means in a town like this?
Renters. "Ahhhh! Run them outta here! Housing density! They'll invade our top-rated public schools!"

But this barn? It has always made me happy. And now it is in my backyard. And it comes with bunnies. This little one is out of her baby stage and about halfway to adulthood, judging by the size of her mama.

I'd take you inside the barn, but it is all rented out to tenants storing who-knows-what in there. My imagination says "go ahead and snoop; c'mon, it'll be fun" and then my brain says "you will never sleep ever again if you discover a box packed with alien body parts."*

Ok, I'm actually going to take you inside. Let's go.

But no peeking under anything draped in burlap. And if you see anything out of the Mutter Museum**, please, don't tell me. I live here now.

This is...well, I don't know what it is. A hook. And some kind of ghostly purple apparition.
Ok, this side of the barn is not very exciting. I rent out half of the first floor to two people, and the remaining half of the first floor plus the entire second floor to someone else.*** The latter portion is superduper cool, but I'm an irresponsible landlord who forgot to obtain keys to that tenant's padlock. Right now that is #548 on the to-do list. I'll get to it. Why? Because the cool part has, well, cool stuff. Antique chicken coops. Antique ladders. And something I'm going to show you when it is framed.

*Why, yes, I did read a lot of RL Stine and Stephen King as a child! Why do you ask?

** Pretty much the coolest museum ever. I love that these abnormalities are presented as just that; the mandated pre-exhibit lecture emphasizes that the whole purpose of the museum is to learn, explore, and educate - not to point fingers and laugh at the "freaks" of nature.

***You might have too much stuff when you require 75% of a barn to store it in. In which to store. Just sayin'. I'll happily take your check, though.

_________________________

Usefulness of the day: free bowling!

keeping cool (and saving money)

I had two people email me about the "sheets in the freezer" reference from a post I've since lost. Keeping sheets in the freezer or fridge is a really cheap way to fall asleep in a nice cool bed. Yes, you will have to make the bed up every night, but it sure beats tossing and turning in the heat. I can't claim this trick as my own, though. My very dear, sweet Roommate grew up in Appalachia and knows all the "hillbilly" alternatives :) Back to the sheets. You only want to chill them - let's not have any frost form. Tightly roll each sheet and pillowcase, place in a plastic bag, and put in the freezer.

With a other few tricks, you can save on home cooling costs this summer:

1. Fans are great. They use much less energy than air conditioners. I run my ceiling fans all day long to keep the cool air circulating.

2. Keep shades/curtains drawn. Sunlight is hot!

3. If your bathroom has one and doing so would not attract Peeping Toms & Tinas, shower with the window open to let out the steam. Otherwise, open the window immediately after your shower. If you belong to a gym, you can use their facilities and avoid steaming up your own. Of course, you could always shower with cold water. Having done this for several months two years ago, I don't recommend it. You will feel deprived the rest of the day, and probably cram yourself full of chocolate/sugar/salt until you realize what is missing.

4. At night, rinse off in cold water just before you get in bed. The evaporation will cool you as you fall asleep.

5. Close your closet doors. No need to air condition your closets.

6. Use heat-generating appliances like stoves and ovens as little as possible. Try to limit any such use to one day a week, and opt for a toaster over (or microwave if you have one) over the stove or oven if you can.

7. Beverages. Some people drink hot tea to cause a sweat; the body cools as the sweat evaporates. Another "hillbilly AC" from Roommate. Others spike cool water with lemon or lime. I discovered a line of designer water flavored with peppermint or fruit+mint. My friends uniformly declared it the closest thing to drinking toothpaste, which is probably why my local stores no longer stock it. Iced mint tea with lemon is the next best thing, I guess.

8. Clothing. Thin, loose cotton skirts and mesh athletic shorts are good. Skinny jeans, not so much. Board-short style boys' trunks are a favorite of mine for lounging around the house: knee-length, loose, and light.

9. Pull long hair into a high bun, off the neck. Skinny, stretchy athletic-style headbands are good for keeping those annoying wispies off the forehead.

10. Exercise in the early morning. Yes, it is also cool at night, but exercising even 6 hours before bedtime can interfere with sleep.

Do you have any tips?

Beach in Los Cabos, 2005

My very first apartment

I found these hidden in the wrong folder. Circa August 2004.

Clearly, I was in a pink-flowers-and-Waterhouse phase. The window dressings are anchored by fake flowers. I've since reformed. All bedrooms since then have been painted a soothing blue and contain only a bed, navy velvet curtains, and a lamp. Nothing else. All books, pictures, and other items go somewhere else because they do not promote restfulness.

The prints were $5 each from Building #19. (Boston-area readers: you are so, so lucky to have Building #19! I miss their circulars.)

See that table? That is a sofa table - a long, tall, thin table meant to go behind a sofa. I simply fell in love with it at Ikea and took the floor model. It got scratched three moves ago (New York to Philly, I believe), and I am currently covering it with an obnoxiously cheery Heather Bailey fabric. It was the first piece of furniture I purchased for myself. I'm sentimental about it.

My two roommates and I found a huge apartment for a very reasonable price. The living room. One roommate was an artist and made tons of pieces for the place, along with the pillows.

The artist also made these three pieces. The piece in the center has an Eve theme if you look closely. Lots of apples, pomegranates, and figs. She also did a lot of mosaic work, which meant you had to be very brave to pad around in bare feet lest a stray piece of sharp broken pottery pop up and bite.

(Embarrassing) Tips from the Reluctant Housekeeper

More here and here.

1. There is a difference between dishwasher detergent and soap for washing dishes. You cannot put dish soap in the dishwasher detergent compartment.

That is all.

4/4 Photo Game

Amy tagged me for this game.

Here are the rules:

1. Go to the 4th folder where you keep your pictures on your computer.
   
2. Post the 4th picture in the folder.
   
3. Explain the photo.
   
4. Tag 4 fellow bloggers to join the fun. (If you're reading, I tag you. Just let us know that you are auto-tagging in the comments.)
   

This is my current home when it was almost done being gutted and rehabbed. It was a formerly grand rowhome that had been hacked into (illegal) apartments with no regard for the house's bones. I turned it into a duplex. This particular floor used to have a crack pit near the windows. A crack pit is basically an indoor campfire, but it is not used for s'mores :) I tore down every single non-supporting wall - I love, love, love big open spaces. This is the main living floor of the top unit. Beautiful wide planks of hardwood were hidden beneath awful black and white linoleum and a few layers of biohazardous carpet. I kept the exposed brick walls and venting - I love the industrial look of it!

Here is a close-up of the brick on the living floor - there is more upstairs, too. If you look closely, you will see that one side is darker than the other. The darker half was in the same apartment as the crackheads, and the crack fumes stained the brick. The other half was in another apartment's bedroom.

I tore off the back of the rowhome and added an addition to each of the 4 stories. The photo was taken just after an old bathroom was ripped out - you can still see the plumbing fixtures for the toilet. The prior owner just plonked a bathroom on a little built-out ledge - massively dangerous and illegal.

Previously, the house ended where you see that big piece of plywood behind the stairs. I pushed the whole building way out.

These are the new and improved stairs. An open design, in keeping with the airy, modern theme, and cherry-red iron support beams for fun.

This was an extremely fun toy.
***
Tip/trick/lesson of the day: For those of you who thought law was dull and boring, let me summarize what appeared in my daily briefing for the state of New Jersey. In Gorzelany v. Simon & Schuster, Inc., Law Div., Bergen Co. (Toskos, J.S.C.) (9 pp.), "[p]laintiffs complain that the use of their photographs in the book "Hot Chicks With Douchebags" was defamatory. The court concluded that there is no actionable defamation. The photographs in which the plaintiffs appear and the accompanying text are used for humorous social commentary...Failing as an assertion of fact, the book must be treated as protected expression of opinion."

So I guess the take-away lesson is that you're out of luck if you find yourself in this piece of literature - I use the term loosely here, no, I have not seen the book. (Ok, I really dislike that d-word when used outside the hygiene context, but I loved the absurd humor of it! I choked on my tea when I read today's briefings. Too good to not share.)