The only furniture you need is a single smooth stone that reminds you of your mother

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Uh, so how did she write that post?

/ Obviously, her post is sarcasm…

// Edited to add: Yeah, especially if that smooth stone was the one your used to smash your mother’s skull in.


Where was this criticism back when @markfrauenfelder was regurgitating @KonMarie’s advice on how to fold my T-shirts?

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The easiest way to fold things is the Ball Method™.
Choose materials that don’t wrinkle. Crumple the garments into balls, cram them into the drawers. Problem solved.


She didn’t invent that folding method. It works pretty well for some things - my drawers are too shallow, but I do it with my husband’s vast collection of t-shirts and he thinks it’s witchcraft.


I lurve her so much.
Her series of women in western art history is the bestest.


Don’t forget to get rid of your fridge, and alternating current!


Oh, now I want to keep an eye out for “Artisanal” DC current appliances. They sound better!


Through many years of intense research I have discovered a technique which knocks two steps off your method:

Choose materials that don’t wrinkle. Crumple the garments into balls, cram them into the drawers.


Pringles Tube.

Also what the hell, why does my brain remember a frakking Dilbert from 1993 but can it remember why we went upstairs or walked into the kitchen? Bah!


Toilet paper tubes can work for single instances of things. They also work for organizing e.g. power cables.

That’s entirely normal.

Pfffft. Normal! Who wants to be normal? Stupid aging process being all typical and boring! Bah!


Full agreement here!

We need some more research on prevention of aging and the associated cognitive losses.
There’s some chance…

So far it is about transfusions of blood from younger specimens. With a bit of luck and two bits of research grants, the specific factors responsible may be isolated and then mass-produced like monoclonal antibodies or insulin.

Ortberg is excellent.

I’m sympathetic to the “get rid of some of that crap” movement since I suffer from acute packratitis, but it has become a bit much lately, a bit antihumorously cultish.

On a related note: I admire the paintings of whitewashed post-Iconoclasm churches in northern Europe, especially the ludicrously-detailed ones by Saenredam, but gods, I wouldn’t want to live in such a barren and undecorated place. The overwhelming voids he depicted also recall mosque interiors, which though more visually extravagant (coated in exquisite arabesque as they often are) nonetheless evince a similar dogmatic and oppressive singlemindedness.

There’s a cute comparison to be made, I’m saying, between post-15th century Sunni aniconism, 16th century Protestant iconoclasm, and this modern fetishization of smooth bare exteriors, oppressive empty voids in the home and at the workplace, neo-modernist mostly-blank interior walls and perfectly straight lines, etc. There’s also a pretty strong comparison between all that and historic and contemporary Calvinist church architecture, bereft as it usually is of any inflection, any sensuousness, anything whatever to delight the eye. Today’s Calvinist outposts are often pole-barns with steeples tacked on, ffs.



The only comment you need to leave on any internet forum is a small booger wiped under a table.


Better yet, skip the drawer & the crumpling. Just leave them in the laundry basket. For the truly advanced, this is the most efficient laundry handling method available. (Dirty laundry goes on the floor btw…)


True pros never take their clothes out of the dryer unless they’re putting them on.

Human body>piled up in washing machine>Washing clothes (naked human body phase 1)>transfer to dryer and run dryer (Naked human body phase 2)>take only the clothes you’re about to wear out of the dryer, leave everything else (clothed human body phase).


Look at the moon. That is all the spice you need.

I don’t think that’s (necessarily) a sign of deterioration, just one of those glitches in how our brains work. You’re watching TV or whatever and think “I want some wasabi peas,” so you begin your trek to the kitchen, during which you mull over whether Mr. Robot is a real person or Elliot’s alter ego, or maybe vice-versa? and by the time you get to the kitchen you’ve gone so far down that rabbit hole you’ve forgotten the purpose of your trip.

It’s similar to the Bathroom Idea (which I’m sure there must be an idiom for in some other language,) where you’re in the bathroom with not much better to do with your brain than contemplate, and the luxury of that contemplation leads to some Ah-ha! moment, which is subsequently lost in the post-contemplative flurry of other things for your mind to pay attention to.


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