I’m not on any social media except for an on Instagram so I can follow 1.25 family (one who posts all the time and another who posts rarely). I’ve never posted myself.
So I’m puzzled as to why Instagram is constantly sending me videos of recipes, products and particularly hacks.
Now, everyone loves a good hack. They used to be called “household hints” and were generally found in a newspaper column by a mother-and-daughter duo named Heloise (both were named Heloise).
It was my experience that the Heloises’ hints worked only about 70% of the time for me. Maybe they had a different brand of oil on their driveway than I did that would respond better to eradication with kitty litter (maybe it was my brand of kitty litter). Maybe their kids were less-sloppy eaters. But even though they promised that with their hint “the stain will be gone,” it somehow never was.
But the Instagram version has actual videos. The one thing I can conclude with all the Instagram hacks is there is nothing that cannot be cleaned with a combination of baking soda, white vinegar, blue dish detergent and toothpaste, often all four at once. Coca-Cola is another frequent cleaning product that makes me wary about what it might be doing to the lining of my stomach if it is that good at melting baked-on grease off one’s stove vent.
Having been sucked into endless Instagram feeds of household hacks, I’ve been able to make several observations.
Some, of course, do work, even for me. But in the spirit of the Heloise columns, never as well as on the Instagram videos.
A number of these hacks require serious power tools, never mind sharp objects like knives to cut the tops (or bottoms) off plastic water bottles. I would be more likely to sever a digit in the process, making my hospital co-pay for surgical reattachment waaaay more than whatever I was saving with the hack.
Some of these are ridiculously time-consuming, measuring and mixing big batches of frankly suspect cleaning products. For example: Squeeze juice from three oranges and do something else with the juice. Take the peels and grind them in a blender with water and two tablespoons of salt. Strain. Pour the strained liquid in a dispenser bottle with one tablespoon of baking soda. Use it to clean the toilet bowl.
Or buy Ty-D-Bol?
A good number of hacks use so many products you “already have in your home” that you could buy the solution’s twin on Amazon for a lot less.
The preponderance of hacks involving feminine hygiene products deserves a section all its own.
If I could add two provisos to this category, they would be “discretion” and “aesthetics.” Maybe also “judgment.” It’s one thing to infuse a panty liner with some essential oil and tack it mostly out of sight on the back of your toilet base. Ditto for using a panty liner as an emergency Band-Aid on your heel (minus the essential oil).
Taping panty liners to the bottom of your kitchen mop as a substitute for Swiffer pads, as several videos suggest, could work in a pinch.
I’m fairly dubious, however, about panty liners soaked with Pine Sol and stuck inside lampshades (presumably meant to be emitting Eau de Cheap Mountain Cabin).
I’m marginally OK with a scented panty liner stuck inside the lid of your kitchen trash bin, as one hack suggests, but I’m worried about placing them as room fresheners on the top of ceiling fan blades. I’d be afraid they’d fly off at inopportune (would there be opportune?) moments. Who’d want to get hit in the face with a Pine Sol-soaked pad?
Some of these hygiene product hacks truly cross the line. Like sticking an extra-long panty liner to the driver’s seat back in your car. Is it supposed to absorb sweat? Regardless, it just looks … wrong. So wrong. Puzzled observers could only speculate how this product got from Point A (where you’d expect it) to Point B. Should they leave a note on your windshield? This is definitely not a hack for anyone who does car pools or is in real estate. Or wants to continue in either.
But the absolutely worst one was a video of three tampons, their little strings tied together neatly, swimming in a fry pan of ground beef to soak up grease. I can’t unsee this. This might be one hack you don’t want to use if you want anyone, including and especially your husband, to ever eat at your house again.
Next week, in Part 2, I’ll elicit readers’ help in trying to figure out what, exactly, a lot of Instagram hacks do. Someone posts a video with no sound or explanation that ends with the poster doing a thumbs up. Like it’s supposed to be obvious. Seriously, it’s keeping me up at night.
For example, there’s a frequent hack that shows someone putting Scotch tape over the keypad of one’s microwave, then peeling it off. No idea what this does.
Or: melting a bunch of (expensive) dishwasher pods in a fry pan. (Why??)
Or: taping a large cabbage leaf to one’s knee with adhesive tape. Medicinal? Or just because you can?
Or: taking a plastic supermarket veggie bag, adding small balls of wadded-up aluminum foil along with coins (quarters, it looks like), filling the bag with water, tying it closed and hanging it outside on the porch. What does this do? Clean the coins? Ward off evil spirits?
I’m already thanking you in advance!
Inga’s lighthearted looks at life appear regularly in the La Jolla Light. Reach her at [email protected]. ♦
