Chia seeds and cockroaches

I am in the throes of selling my house. I don't know how people do this 'clean up' thing all the time. As soon as I wash and dry some clothing, it has to be folded and put away ... not strewn across a couch for a week or so and definitely not put in the 'floordrobe' ... ie put in a pile on the floor. The only time I really clean my house -- and put away my clean laundry -- is when I am expecting guests. Life is too short to be bothered with tidying up every two minutes. When I had my first open home, I put all my wash cloths and sponges from the kitchen sink into a bowl and shoved it to the back of the dish towel drawer. Out of sight, out of mind. And the kitchen did look splendid. But one week later and I had to wash the dishes before another open home. Yes folks, I do leave dishes to grow fur in my dishwasher rather than wash them by hand. So, I opened the drawer, moved the dish cloths aside and hey, what the heck was that? A veritable Chia seed plantation was growing from the sponges. One of the dishes I had washed had housed my chia seed dessert and some of them must have embedded themselves in the sponge. Who knew it was so easy to grow Chia seeds? Over the years I have at odd times, tried to grow sprouts for salads with little or no success. What I should have been doing is shoving them into a drawer.

Now you might think that I am a terrible housewife and you would be right. But, I am not the only one. While scrolling through the thousands of houses we might consider buying in our new area, we came across quite a few photos of kitchens where you could see dirty dishes thrown into ovens for hiding. They are obviously not hiding well enough to escape my eagle eye. One oven was so jam packed with dirty dishes that it was a wonder the door could even close. At least I did actually clean the dishes and put them away in the cupboards before allowing a bunch of strangers to wander through my domain: or the photographer to take pictures of my kitchen. It was only the dish cloths and sponges that were my ultimate downfall. Alas and alack, I am no home goddess. No Martha Stewart or Marie Kondo.

I remember in Empangeni before we immigrated, an Estate agent came around to tell me she would be bringing people to view the house in half an hour. No, no idea why she didn't just phone me? It was the days before cell phones, but still, we did have an actual wall mounted device that received phone calls. Anyhow, this lady took one look inside our very chaotic lounge. Four children and their 'projects' strewn from one end of the room to the other. School bags piled up at the door. Shoes and socks thrown at random around the place. In fact, there might even have been a sock or two outside on the lawn. Anyhow, she said, 'Will half an hour be enough time to clean? I can delay for a bit longer if you would prefer.' I told her not to be silly, that half an hour was plenty. We had it down to a fine art. When Barry, my husband, was due to arrive home from work every day, the children became a well coordinated clean dream team. We had plenty of practice at the Blitz Krieg of clean. That particular day the agent put her head around the door when she returned and nervously announced that the buyers were there. And then I saw her eyes pop out of her head in surprise. There was not a speck of dust, not a bread crumb and not a dirty sock in sight. She later asked me how I did it. I told her it was simple ... with five sets of hands at the ready, we all did our part. Sadly, it is now only my particular set of hands that have to clean my home before inspections. And I need the Blitz Krieg team more than ever.

Did you know that you can farm cockroaches? Yes. It is an up and coming eco-friendly form of animal food production. Instead of feeding chickens and fish farms on corn or other plant based foods, you feed them desiccated and crushed cockroaches. It's a win win situation. This particular cockroach farm in China can process 5 tonnes of food waste from restaurants a day and turn it into a high protein food source. Instead of filling landfills with food scraps, we should be looking at this new form of farming. But can you just imagine? Apparently the sound of those millions of little insects chewing their way through the waste products is something that gives you the creeps. It gives me the shivers thinking about it. What would the passport of the cockroach farmer list his occupation as? Eco-friendly farmer or sustainable feed supplier? And seriously, who is going to apply to become an apprentice farmer in that situation? One upside to this type of farming is that you can go away for a holiday and not have to worry about your livestock. Leave piles of rotting food out for your insects and walk away. Would there be a stud farm for the best cockroach? And how would you know which one was the stud and which one was the understudy?

When we lived on a farm, my husband was expected to slaughter a cow once or twice a month. He absolutely hated this chore. He said the cow would look at him with her big brown eyes as he put the gun against her temple and it would break his heart. Every time. Even chickens have those little beady eyes that look at you as you chop their heads off or wring their necks. At least with cockroach farming there would be no residual guilt at 'harvesting' them. I can spray a spider or a fly and not feel anything at all. Truly. Nothing. And could we see a fly farmer in the future? When cockroaches become too expensive to purchase could the prospective sustainable food merchant try his hand at flies? I can see millions of student flats throughout the world becoming a home industry of sub-contractors to the industry. Instead of mothers world wide bemoaning the fact that the students have disgustingly dirty places of abode, would they be cheering their children on to earn a living from their roach infestations? The future boggles the brain. Elon Musk watch out, cockroach farmers are the billionaires of the future. And if you don't believe me and perhaps thinking that I am making this all up ... put a Google search in for Cockroach farming in China ... particularly Xichang province. They already have billions of roaches at their beck and call. Well, no, not their beck and call because they don't listen when you call them. But, you know what I mean?

We are all heartily sick and tired of Corona Virus and all its dramas. So, I thought I would look at previous pandemics like the plague and other killers. The Justinian plague killed off an estimated 30 to 50 million people until there was basically no one else to kill. Whole towns and cities died. The next one was the Black death in 1347 and killed about 200 million people. But this is where quarantine was introduced when the wise men of Milan realised that people in close proximity to the ill, were getting sick themselves. So, they quarantined sailors on ships for 40 days until they could prove they were virus free. Quarantine is an Italian word meaning 40. And due to this quarantine, Milan suffered the lowest rate of death during the Black death because of its policy. After that the plague would re-occur every ten years or so in Europe until the Great Fire of London in 1666. They think that the plague lost its power because the main cause of the transmission were the fleas on the backs of black rats that infested the city. 20% of people would die. That is 20% each ten years. Add that up and it comes out as an astonishing amount of dead people. Our little Corona Virus is looking much less frightening these days because we now know what is causing the illnesses and can deal with them. Then of course we have smallpox which killed off many of the indigenous people of the Americas when the Europeans arrived.

Thank goodness for vaccinations. They have changed the face of the world for many of us. Cholera is the next in the line-up of killers of note. My own great grandfather died of it because of a lack of clean drinking water. It was John Snow who discovered that it was caused by polluted water and he lobbied and complained until something was done about it. Before that people thought the disease was floating on the air. And so, it goes on. Each generation has its own pandemics. The humble mosquito is the cause of more deaths in Africa than lions and crocodiles combined and that is a modern reality for many. Us in First world countries pat ourselves on the back and feel superior because we think we are clever and safe. I can remember people who were affected by the Spanish flu in 1918. Families destroyed, dreams crushed. This pandemic has reminded us that we are not immune to the vagaries of fate. That the finger of death is never far away and that we should live the best life we can. Every day. The economic collapse is often more scary than getting ill. But where there is life there is hope.

Today I went aqua-sizing. That for the uninitiated is exercise in a swimming pool. Thankfully it is a heated pool because Spring is not exactly warm in my corner of the world. Anyhow, I was in the shallow end due to my shorter stature, and this is where the 'socializing' group hang out. More talking than actual exercise. And I decided that if I want to get the full benefit of the time I had, I should go to where the serious ladies were. Yes, in the deep end. Next to Wix and Frances who are machines. When the trainer says 'run across the pool three times.' they do it six times, with a smile. The trainer will say 'Russian march. Lift those legs ladies and let me see your toes above the water.' Well, when I am in the socializing area, I am usually the only one trying to wiggle my toes. The others are discussing operations, husbands or holidays to the snow. But with Wix and Frances, no such discussions. And even though the water is significantly deeper, they lift their feet right out of the water with each step. Yikes, what was I getting myself in for? I did try to keep up. But, let's just say that they left me in the proverbial dust. I managed to lift my toes out of the water and did the whole three quarters of an hour of exercise without a break, but I can feel my muscles cramping as we speak. I will be paying for my hubris tonight.

I do sing along to the music that the trainer kindly supplies. I sing 'Delta Dawn' and 'Save the last dance for me.' Oh, goodness me, I love to warble along with that one. I find that the singing helps me regulate my breaths. So, there I am singing away when Frances looks over at me and frowns. I was singing, 'Oh baby, don't you know that I love you so ...' I did laugh. I smiled and said, 'I'm singing.' But, let us just say that the frown did not vanish until the next song came along. I think it was 'Hey Jude' and then the penny dropped and she smiled back at me. No, she did not join me in my singing. She is much too dedicated to exercise to waste her breath. But, for me it's essential.