Clean House, for those who have not inflicted this show on themselves, involves a crew of 4ish folk who descend weekly (more often in reruns) on a house in greater LA. They interview the residents, convince them to part with a bunch of their crap in a yard sale, take the resulting money plus some sweeteners and transform some or all of the house while the residents are relaxing in a hotel. The residents are blindfolded, the Big Reveal Occurs. The production value on the show has gone up over the years, resulting in better wardrobe for the on-camera crew, a lot more gifting of furniture and better hotel stays. Banter amongst the crew supplies a lot of the entertainment with yard sale antics and mockery of the residents clutter supplying the balance. It's an amusing show.
Regular readers know we have been contemplating renovating or moving to a larger house and have been monitoring real estate in a town or towns in Massachusetts because it would improve R.'s current commute and also put him nearer a nest of desirable possible future jobs. However, the Massive Economic Collapse means we can't sell (and might have trouble renting) our current home with confidence so we're in no particular hurry to take action. Also, we have a 2 month old. And reliable child care for the 3 year old -- who would leave? In the meantime, we've been taking advantage of the FMLA to catch up on All the Stuff That Needs to Be Done Around the House -- replacing and repairing doors, floors (finally, the ant problem has been completely fixed now that all the rotted wood is gone), painting, etc. Gutters are on their way. But that would be more the kind of thing that would be covered in a Holmes on Homes marathon. Clean House has inspired an ongoing bin shuffle, and recently I've moved on to clearing off the accumulated crap on top of bookcases and arranging Decorative Items there in an appealing fashion, instead of just wherever they fit. Hey, it's a very appealing looking 1.5 square feet or so. Don't knock it.
What Not to Wear, by contrast, has resulted in a far more extensive post-partum wardrobe rejuvenation than I had initially intended. I figured if I had a whole lot of clothes I Really Really Liked, there's at least a chance that Murphy will cooperate by helping me shrink out of them.
The Biggest Loser is an ongoing encouragement to go visit the treadmill in the basement. True to form, it's a lot harder to avoid chocolate. Ah, well.