Use It Up, Wear It Out

The garage is a universe of ungodly junque including a clear plastic tri-fold egg carton I should have recycled months ago and also a big dirty bag half full of potting soil, and so today, as the world closed down, I spooned soil into the plastic dimples, soaked it and planted 12 collard seeds, showing them the seed packet to encourage them. Closing the carton created a terrarium. It's now in a dark warm place. Possibly the seeds will germinate in five to seven to ten days, maybe. I realized I have utterly forgot how to garden, remembering only that the largest part is faith.

Next I wanted, or rather, needed, for the very first time to put up a house number, but didn't want Mylar numerals stuck on the siding or the constant sight of numerals disrupting my contemplation of nature. Everyone until now has found this house, but one dark night someone had to drive seven miles from here to catch enough phone signal to call me and wail that there was no house number, and I had to go stand on the highway with a lantern to guide them.

What might the solution be? In the garage, behind trashbags of packing peanuts, was a two-foot metal planter so old I had grown up with it, heavy and too corroded inside to plant in. Inverting it over a rock and applying the numerals created a sturdy yet portable and removable house number, a courtesy for the Instakart drivers and first responders one might need in a pandemic.

These frugal up-cyclings enhanced the refreshing and sparkling spring day, ideal for scrubbing the bird feeder and refilling the outdoor mousetraps with poison, admiring the perennial crocuses down by the road; a hawk careering in an uncluttered sky and red cardinals calling to hardly anybody.

Rural Missouri Handbag Restoration

Before

My leather tote purses, so tailored and trim, after two years' use were stretched and flabby, although otherwise they were like new, and stretched-out leather can't be fixed. One can buy "purse shapers" of clear acrylic for $32 a pop, but only for high-end bags; mine, from Dooney & Burke, are mid-range. They are not very stylish but respectable and can withstand hours on gravelly car mats and fast-food-joint floors, and serve as foot-rests in planes and pillows in buses and look none the worse for wear.

One might try to firm up flaccid purses by measuring them and then lining their interiors with custom-cut cardboard, foamboard, or plastic, and I tried all those this morning before surrendering the purses to eBay to sell at a tremendous loss, sorry because they were favorites just right for me -- that's why I had two, identical except for color -- both still completely functional, but lumpy, limp and bad for business. In the garage I looked around for other possibilities and saw -- clean, empty egg cartons. Light and durable.

After

I save as many cartons as I can for a local chicken farmer. They measure 12", the same as the purse. What if I. . .? Oh no, Divine, that is crazy. Egg cartons to restore your purses' shapeliness! Whoever heard of that? How Midwestern can you get!? What if someone saw them?

Oh, heck, I said, and pushed the egg carton sidewise down into the boneless purse, and instantly the purse filled out, stood erect on its four metal feet, and looked practically new. I can't believe this, I said; I don't have to chuck those purses. Instead of looking like flabby depressing torsos, they will look businesslike and smart -- and I fixed them free, with egg cartons? Not even duct tape? Points for creativity!

There's a little less space in the purses, but it's no problem. Little vitamin packs, safety pins, earrings, postage stamps, coins and so on fit in the egg dimples -- right in the carton!

Problem solved for exactly $0.00.

Everybody Loves Confusion

The light green hose is older and made of tough rubber that's gotten a bit stiff. It was in the garage when I moved here and nothing is wrong with it, except the car ran over and warped the brass coupling where it attaches to the dark green hose, and after that these hoses couldn't be separated.

Which was bad news, because the dark green hose, bought during hard times, is plastic, cheap and after a year developed semi-permanent kinks.

Last night I tried coiling it. I wrestled it. I pulled it to its full 30-foot length, took the twists out, and tried again. Tried to pinch the kinks open. Tried standing on the kinks to pinch them open. Then tried to coil it. It turned into knots, and kinked again -- Photo shows the best coil I could get. After struggling for an hour, it suddenly hit me: Throw this out. Buy a new one. And don't buy a cheapie!