For the long holiday weekend, I went to visit my parents in the suburbs. We looked at some model homes, just for fun.
Most of the homes were huge. A lot had master bedrooms that were bigger than my whole apartment. Some, I wished I could just buy the basement level and still live there in luxury.
Here’s “my” new bedroom:
That was only half. Don’t forget the sitting area:
Walk down the winding staircase to the elegant foyer.
Bask in the sunlight on the back porch:
Then, at night, warm up by the outdoor fireplace.
If only. I can’t imagine having a house that big. I kept thinking it must be a pain to clean everything. I can hardly handle a one-bedroom apartment.
Speaking of cleaning… I actually did some over the weekend, with the help of Pinterest. (Sorry, this is what I resort to blogging about when I have no other near-finished projects.) Squeezed in between model home visits, I took on the daunting task of cleaning our stove top grates, which I lugged to my parent’s house with me, since the Pinterest method required an outdoor area, which my apartment lacks.
The grates were pretty greasy and gross. Here’s a close up of the griminess.
Sorry you had to see that.
I used produce bags, bagging each individually. I poured some ammonia into each bag and tied the bags up tight. Then, placed them on cookie trays, in case of leakage. I left them in the garage because the fumes aren’t good for you.
After a few hours, I went to check on them. Apparently, I can’t tie well, and all the bags leaked. So I dropped them in a kitty litter box I found in the garage. (Although, I’m still confused as to why my parents had kitty litter boxes without any kitties.) I put another box on top, to seal in the nauseating ammonia fumes.
The next morning, I cleaned them off with dish soap and a sponge, and they were shiny and new.
Yeah… shiny and new. Just like Madonna.