Although we began our ongoing interior fix-up with the master bedroom, that’s paused because, no kidding, our new bed arrived and we’re keeping the old one until my daughter is ready to take possession. It’s bedtastic round here, with not even room enough to roll out the new rug. I’m oddly untroubled.
We moved on to painting walls. That took absototalutely forever, even though for the most part I just had everything re-whited. But it’s finished.
So now, as we wait for bed removal and other acts of decluttering, I’m focused on quick hits. The table and pouf, for example. And, surprisingly, the laundry room. You can find a lot of design for sudsy spaces out there.
From modern with spark,
to the traditional – if your traditions include a country house in Provence.
to the, well, not my style. I don’t much want straightforward signs, a chandelier, Tiffany blue walls, or curtained appliances. (That’s High WASP communication restraint, right there.)
So I hung a Mark Rothko poster instead. What? I can’t decide if the artist would have liked keeping company with a place of labor, or resisted my bourgeois love of his work for its beauty.
Let’s back up. My laundry room is and always has been very small. But it exists. When the kids were little I always thought I’d like to bash out a wall to extend into the garage, and set up a table for folding, bins for clean clothes, a domestic desk for bills and such. But in retirement, and with thoughts of a future move, I wanted to work with what I have.
Painted new white, of course. That faux ceramic flooring is actually vinyl, and 30 years old. Feels quite vintage. I liked it when I installed it, and I like it now, faded. Why am I showing you pictures of a decidedly unglamorous space? Because it has added, measurably, to my sense of wellbeing.
The new seagrass basket, and this below, are from Cost Plus World Market. They smell good. I use the one on the floor for dirty laundry that escapes the master bathroom, and the one atop the washer for clean rags. Dirty rags go in the white plastic thingie.
I used to keep rags of all sorts in random plastic buckets; attractive baskets are infinitely more calming.
This little laundry room gets almost beautiful in the morning. Light is recipient-agnostic, it’ll beautify even the most daily of objects. And I’m switching out all cleaning products for non-harmful sorts. That distilled water, for example, does more than refract.
It fuels the new blue-handled Bissell steam cleaner you see below. Why is it wearing a dirty shower cap? Nah, it’s the washable cleaner head. Wonderful gadget to replace a mop, which I found on Rachel’s blog, here, and purchased immediately.
Can I say, all in sincerity, that I love hanging stuff on hooks behind the door? Gravity provides its own order.
And finally, a small quirky detail as suggested by an artist. With a little black sticky shelf paper, and a couple of white pens, I doodled.
and eventually wrote completely silly labels on all the laundry room shelves. Which serve, of course, as our pantry. (Apparently written words are a trend in fashion too.)
I scribbled, impatiently. Nothing like Mrs. Blandings and her glorious wall paintings. Could be wholly improved upon with downloaded calligraphy fonts, or a real artist at the helm. But it’s oddly right for me, one of little patience and great love for language.
I did not doodle on Mr. Rothko. He apparently found Pop Art frivolous. So he presides over the shelf where I keep gardening substances; neem oil, epsom salts, organic fertilizer, and diatomaceous earth.
I have one other recommendation for laundry zen. I bought an over-the-door drying rack, kind of like this, and I love it.
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