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My parents were hoarders and I lived in activist and or hippie/punk collective situations for about seven years, and now I even have a kid creating extra filth to clean up after. You can recover from being a huge mess and keep your rad politics if you want. Or you can just be a bitter crusty ex-radical like I am, but you can change. If I can do it, you can do it.

Here's my advice for other broke-ass radical types who think that maybe it might be possible not to live in filth…

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When you hear the word "feminist," you likely don't picture is me: a housewife who does all the cooking and housekeeping, who makes dinner from scratch, and a solid effort to look pretty for her husband everyday when he comes home from work. I'm "mom" to my two rescued mutts. I'm a published writer. I'm a wife. And my feminism includes my right to want to be the best wife and partner that I can possibly be to my husband. The keyword there being "partner."

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I am a shit housekeeper. My culinary background is in microwave dinners and take-out. I didn't think anything of it until it came time to move in with my now husband. We moved into a lovely house (check), I bought some lovely lipstick (check), I found a strand of pearls at a garage sale (check). So why the hell is the laundry always in a pile, the dishes never done, the floor all dirty and most of the things I cook are gross, mushy approximations of food?

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Doing your laundry with a Japanese Hillbilly twist

You know, our grand-parents and great grandparents didn't necessarily have high efficiency washers and dryers. They had time, the sun, the wind, and Borax. So, taking a few pages from their books, I came up with my brilliant new laundry plan that, believe it or not, will only end up costing me $30 a year.