Adventures in Bleach

The previous owners of our house were clean freaks, I've concluded. They left a lot of their cleaning supplies stashed under sinks and in cupboards - jugs of bleach, industrial-size refill containers of antibacterial soap, Windex and wood floor cleaner and Chrome Sparkle Enhancer. I didn't even know half those products existed. I've never used any of it before in my life. The only cleaning products I've used up till now have been Seventh Generation dishwashing liquid and laundry detergent. I read about environmental toxins all day and then I come home and I'm scared to touch that bleach bottle. I'm scared of the antibacterial soap too. What if I breed a new resistant superbug by washing my hands with it?

But, there it all is, and I hate to waste it. So I've cautiously been using it. For the past five years, we've been taking laundry over to my parents' house every week. Now, to my extreme delight, we have the capacity to wash clothes in our own home. I actually fall asleep grinning about this, it makes me so happy. Yesterday for the first time in my life I separated my laundry and did a load of just whites, and put a bit of bleach in with the detergent. I felt like such a typical suburban American as I did so - just freewheeling and not even worrying about the environment for once.

Gotta say I was underwhelmed with the results; my clothes came out clean, but not bright white like I was hoping. The socks in particular still looked kind of dingy. And all the clothes reeked of bleach, even after I put them out to dry in the sun for hours. I felt like my lungs were corroding with the fumes coming off them. But now I know. Reduce the bleach, and the expectations.

Our new home is a doorway to other "typical" experiences as well. When we lived at our apartment, I would put the baby in the stroller, sling a few canvas bags over my shoulder, and walk to the grocery store several times a week. Each time the amount I bought would be limited by what I could physically carry while pushing the stroller back. Now, because we're not walking distance to anything, I load the baby into the car and do a week's worth of shopping at a time. I push her around the store in a cart instead of a stroller. I wheel the whole cart out to my car to transfer the groceries. I almost feel like the rules don't apply, and it's okay to buy junk food and processed CheeseZips and so on. I have to mentally slap myself. No! Just because you're using fossil fuels just to GET to the grocery store does not mean you can throw nutrition out the window too!

On the positives list, we have a dining room now. Instead of balancing plates on our laps on the sofa, my husband and I can now eat dinner together at an actual table. We have conversations while we eat. It's such an improvement.

Not at Home Yet

I wonder how long it will take to feel at home in the new house. When we first moved into our apartment, I remember I didn't want to spend any time there unless my then-boyfriend was there. I would come home from work, tired after a long day, but within moments of stepping in the front door I would think, "I just want to leave." He usually didn't get home until 8 or 9 at night. I would grab an apple and turn right around and go out for a walk, or sit in the park across the street - better to be obviously not home, than to be in this place that was supposed to be home and wasn't.

Right now, the new place doesn't feel like home. All our stuff is there, but I feel like spending as little time there as possible. I just want to get what I need and get out. Will it take months, like it did last time? Will it take having friends over and cooking a few big messy meals before I can feel like we've staked our claim? Even though the new place is good for so many reasons and I'm very happy we got it, I miss the comforts of our old apartment.

It must be even harder for our daughter, who's never lived anywhere else and who wasn't involved in the decision to move. For her, it was just a giant uprooting and upheaval. For the first time now she's sleeping in her own room instead of with us, and she's lost her neighborhood, the streets, parks, grocery store, and playgrounds with which she was so intimately familiar. The new house exists in a void because there aren't shops and such within walking distance - it's like opening the front door and finding that we're floating in outer space. You have to use the car to get anywhere, which is like a wormhole, so there's no connection or continuity to the geography.

To top it off she's starting daycare for the first time in her life soon. It will be so scary for her. I feel really sorry for her that everything is so new and frightening, and I wish I knew how to make it better.