Looking out my backdoor: Hacking through brambles in the rabbit hole

Like Alice, now and then I take a dive down a rabbit hole, purely for entertainment. Oh, well, and so I can feel superior, yes, smug in my own knowledge.

I’m not on Facebook, but when I check weather on my computer, I get a sidebar of widgets, (love that word), that is every bit as good as FB for misinformation, from what I’m told.

So, there I am, trawling along through non-news, political rants, hundreds of chocolate-chip cookie recipes and other trivia, when I spy a household hint, called a hack, more about that later, for cleaning stains on a mattress.

I never click to open. Never. I simply enjoy swimming along, checking out the bait. If I do bite, my computer unhelpfully deluges me with similar suggestions, all at odds with each other, each claiming to be the right one. Like religion.

However, after my last surgery I was bed-bound for a month. My new lovely mattress garnered stains. I had it professionally cleaned so it is clean but still stained.

I took the bait, swallowed the hook. I clicked. I jotted down the recipe for the cleaner, which called for 1/3 tablespoon of dish soap.

I kid you not. One-third (1/3) tablespoon?

Do our schools no longer teach basic weights and measurements? Well, here is a hack for you, my dear child. One Tablespoon equals three teaspoons. Three teaspoons equal one Tablespoon. In the olden days, for clarity, we would write, 3 t = 1 T. Like a scientific formula. Therefore, 1/3 tablespoon is 1 teaspoon. Simple.

Let me digress with a rant about the evolution of the word, hack. Or is it devolution? To me, hack is an ugly word, mean, right up there with slay, pillage, bully, chop, cut, sever. Bloodletting.

Immediately I picture hacking through the blackberry brambles with a machete, trying to clear a space for a garden. I know. Old school.

Then we all got computers and, voila, hack changed to mean some elusive somebody, get out your tin hat, who wriggled through a crack in your firewall and stole all your private information, no matter that most of it is boring.

I struggle to understand how hack came to be equated with helpful. Along with Helen’s Household Hints, Matt’s Mechanical Magic, Gert’s Garden Genius, and so on.

Not only does each hack claim to be the right way to proceed with whatever the project, the person sharing (?) the hack, loudly attempts to convince you that you have been doing it wrong all your life. As have your parents and grandparents. Each way to do mostly simple things lays claim to be minutely different. Each way is the right way. Most importantly, no matter what, your way is the wrong way, because, obviously if you are wrong, you want to know how to be right. And, there is a helpful product to help you onto the right way. Ka-ching. Clever.

On second thought, perhaps hack is positively the best word.

No longer do we need take the information we possess, sit quietly in front of the problem, turn it this way and that way, seek advice and help if necessary, from an actual person, come to an understanding, and fix the problem if it is fixable.

Choose a hack, gather the products suggested, follow the You Tube video, and done. Easy-peasy. No thinking necessary. I have been assured there are hacks for absolutely everything. No need to call on the skills of a plumber, an electrician, a mechanic, or any other trained person.

Me, like I said, I’m old school. I’ve a feeling the electrician, the mechanic, the agronomist, are patiently waiting for the hackers to screw up.

I’ll call the plumber first, before I screw it up, after I make sure the plumber didn’t get her training on Facebook.

You go on and do it the right way. You are more clever than me.

You ask, Did the hack work? Did I remove the stains from my mattress?

No. I haven’t tried it yet. I don’t have a 1/3 tablespoon measure in my cupboard.

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Sondra Ashton grew up in Harlem but spent most of her adult life out of state. She returned to see the Hi-Line with a perspective of delight. After several years back in Harlem, Ashton is seeking new experiences in Etzatlan, Mexico. Once a Montanan, always. Read Ashton’s essays and other work at http://montanatumbleweed.blogspot.com/. Email [email protected].