So much of clutter in a house are little things like bag clips for open potato chips. I love learning tricks like this that eliminate the need for keeping those things around.

Awhile back, the artist Keri Smith put a post on her blog about how she debranded her bathroom. She took all her products–toothpaste, lotion, shampoos, etc.–and made “skins” to cover them up. Which is to say, she drew pictures of the Leroux family, who she said were French, and put them over the bottles.

For some reason, she has taken the post down, but at least she left up a shorter post about the project, as well as a picture of the Leroux family:

The post made me look at how many brands I have in my house and made me think about how much they intrude into my life. I started removing the labels off things I use every day, like my deodorant and mouthwash, and I found that I liked them better when I didn’t have to look at the brand name. In some subtle, visual way, the brand was intruding on my everyday activities and I didn’t even realize it.

When I am finished remodeling my bathroom, I may go even further and do what Cumbersome has done, which is to buy some bottles from a place like Ikea, label them, and pour the products in, like so:

In researching this idea, I discovered that a lot of people seem to dislike the idea of debranding/unbranding a section of your home. In this post on Apartment Therapy shilling stickers to use for debranding, (no longer available) some people even downright angry about the idea.

But actually, I think there are some good reasons to debrand. For example:

1. Most branded bottles are ugly, garish, and intrusive, and it’s relaxing not to look at them.

2. Debranding with an overall design, like the above bottles or the Leroux family, creates a uniformity in the bathroom, which is nicer on the eye.

3. It’s more interesting and fun to make your own designs for products than to use ones made for you.

4. It keeps guests from judging you what brands of shampoo or mouthwash you buy. (You know it happens.)

5. As Keri Smith says in her post, “my concept of unbranding involves pulling my personal space out of the corporate grasp and shaping it to conform to my own mindset/aesthetic (nature for example).”

I realize not everyone agrees with the last point, but it is an interesting concept to consider, nevertheless. How much do these brands intrude into our lives? What is the psychological cost of looking at a branded object every day?

But really, maybe it’s not that much deeper than this: I would rather look at a pretty bottle than a one with neon print yelling its name at me every day.

In reading this article about how frugality makes you happier, I was struck by the opening anecdote about Tammy Strobel, who embraced living simply to the point that she decided to winnow her personal possessions down to 100 items.

Inspired by books and blog entries about living simply, Ms. Strobel and her husband, Logan Smith, both 31, began donating some of their belongings to charity. As the months passed, out went stacks of sweaters, shoes, books, pots and pans, even the television after a trial separation during which it was relegated to a closet. Eventually, they got rid of their cars, too. Emboldened by a Web site that challenges consumers to live with just 100 personal items, Ms. Strobel winnowed down her wardrobe and toiletries to precisely that number.

Today, three years after Ms. Strobel and Mr. Smith began downsizing, they live in Portland, Ore., in a spare, 400-square-foot studio with a nice-sized kitchen. Mr. Smith is completing a doctorate in physiology; Ms. Strobel happily works from home as a Web designer and freelance writer. She owns four plates, three pairs of shoes and two pots. With Mr. Smith in his final weeks of school, Ms. Strobel’s income of about $24,000 a year covers their bills. They are still car-free but have bikes. One other thing they no longer have: $30,000 of debt.

I am trying to imagine what it would be like to have 100 possessions. I am pretty sure I have well over 100 books–actually I probably have way more than 100 books–and that’s just one type of possession. I can’t decide if it would be a relief to have so few things or if it would be somewhat annoying. If you just have two pots, for example, and you cook as much I do, you’re going to end up washing those pots a lot.

On the other hand, the simpler things are, the more peaceful life is. And it certainly seems to be making Strobel happy:

Now the couple have money to travel and to contribute to the education funds of nieces and nephews. And because their debt is paid off, Ms. Strobel works fewer hours, giving her time to be outdoors, and to volunteer, which she does about four hours a week for a nonprofit outreach program called Living Yoga.

“The idea that you need to go bigger to be happy is false,” she says. “I really believe that the acquisition of material goods doesn’t bring about happiness.”

The number 100 is completely arbitrary. Still, I have been counting things lately. Because I am remodeling my bathroom, I have been thinking of the perfect number of towels, the perfect number of sets of sheets, etc. What do you really need in life?

Anyway, I’m not cutting back to 100 possessions any time soon, but the article did encourage me to start another bag of things to give to my local thrift store.

Painter Sean Scherer is copying me! Well, anyway, I thought I was the only person who likes decorating with anatomical models and other science-related things, but judging from the slide show of his house on the NYTimes website, he is drawn to the same thing.

Decorating with science-related objects is not for everyone. While I might look at an animal skeleton and find it wondrous, another person would be justified to find it creepy. I can understand that. My husband and I have been looking for an antique anatomical chart for awhile now, but most of them are too gory for us. Because of this, we haven’t found the right one to hang in our house yet.

But at the least, science is always interesting, and it’s a great way to add interest to your decor. For example, you could use:

Anatomical models. As the above picture from Scherer’s house shows, displaying a model like these anatomical hearts as sculpture invites interest and has a nice metaphorical punch. (Keeping a heart in a glass case, putting it on a stand for all to see and handle, etc.) The above is $46.50 from Wisdom King.

There are also anatomical charts. Personally, I prefer the hand-drawn antique charts because they often have character and inaccuracies. But if you want a modern one, there are plenty of cool charts available online from places like here and here. They range from $15-$20, and you can even choose to have them laminated.

While I find it morbid to have human skeletons around, animal skeletons are often amazing in their delicacy and intricacy. Someday, I will get around to purchasing a bat skeleton like the above, which costs $55.

Finally, antique medical supplies are very collectible, and when you look at things like this French antique dental model from the 1920s, it’s easy to tell why. These things are weird, archaic and completely fascinating. To learn more about collecting antique medical instruments, click here.

I like this idea from Preston and Theo’s house tour on Apartment Therapy–store a flat-screen TV on a painter’s easel. It’s a good way to add interest to the ugly old TV. And it would make it easy to move around, too.

(Onions and sprouting watercress tops)

Here’s a great idea from Design Sponge: combine vegetables with leafy greens to make an remarkable centerpiece.

(Squash and some kind of flowering green)

The idea is to pick a colorful veggie–squash, eggplant, etc.–and then pick a bunch of greens–herbs, green onions, a flowering lettuce–and put them together. First, cut the greens and tie them. Then insert a skewer or a stick into the veggie. Finally, combine, like so:

(Carrots and beans)

There’s a more thorough how-to on the site.

I like this idea because it is the kind of centerpiece that is unusual and visually fresh while still beautiful. Plus, instead of throwing the centerpiece out afterwards, you can eat it.

Move over chalkboard spray paint. Now we have dry-erase board paint. That’s right, apparently you can now spray anywhere in your house with this paint and have an instant dry-erase board. Office, kid’s room, kitchen, etc.

The paint comes with a warranty guarantee and claims to go on in one coat, with no cracking or peeling. And, unlike the chalkboard walls, when you aren’t writing on the wall, it looks like just another white wall in your house.

I can see a lot of creative uses with this paint. Has anyone tried it?

Or if you haven’t tried it, how would you use it?

When I first saw this Trio lasagna pan, I thought it was kind of cool. But then I thought about my lasagna pan and how I use it for many more purposes than making lasagna. It is one of the most useful things in my kitchen. If I had the Trio lasagna pan instead, it might be a little easier to make lasagna, but I wouldn’t be able to use it in all those other ways.

That is the problem with unitaskers–devices that can be used only one way. When we are not using them for their specific purpose, they are just taking up space. That’s why unitaskers are the first thing to go to the thrift store. When we stop doing whatever it is they do, they become useless.

By contrast, multitaskers–devices that are used multiple ways–take up less space and are used frequently. If you are concerned about having a more efficient kitchen and cleaner cupboards, try to only own multitaskers.

The best multitasker I can think of is a knife. One knife can replace a host of gadgets–apple corers, vegetable choppers, mushroom slicers, garlic presses, and so on. For each of these unitaskers, a knife does the job just as well and takes up less space. On top of that, by not buying the other gadgets, you are saving money.

Here is another unitasker I was tempted by, but didn’t get: the baker’s edge brownie pan.

I like the idea of brownies that are all edges (the edges are the best part), but how often do I really bake brownies? What other uses could this pan have? Is it going to end up being used, or is it going to end up in the back of the cupboard?

Alas, I think the baker’s edge brownie pan is a unitasker of the worst sort.

But sometimes we need unitaskers, right? What about ice cream makers? Waffle irons? Popcorn poppers?

This is true. I am not sure how to replace my waffle iron… yet. But sometimes you can replace a unitasker by finding a better way to do whatever it is it does. For example, I used an oil-popper for popcorn until I discovered how to make microwavable popcorn using only a paper bag. It works just as well and takes up no space in the kitchen, so I donated the oil popper to the thrift store. By thinking the process through and using resources at hand, I found a better way to do it, and it rendered the unitasker useless.

Alternately, sometimes you can turn a unitasker into a multitasker. For example, take the melon baller.

On the surface, the melon baller seems to have only has one use, which is to scoop melons. But a melon baller can be used to scoop ice cream, shape cookie dough, remove seeds from pumpkins, make meatballs, core apples, and so on. With a little creative thinking, a relatively useless item becomes more valuable in the kitchen.

On the other hand, a spoon and your fingers can do all those things too.

My goal is to slowly replace all unitaskers with multitaskers. By doing so, I will have less stuff around and a more organized kitchen. Multiple functions means more efficiency overall.

To tell the difference between a unitasker and a multitasker, ask yourself the following questions about each gadget:

1. How many ways do I use this thing? Clearly, if you can only think of one purpose, you have a unitasker on your hands.

2. If it just has one purpose, how often do I use it for this purpose? If you haven’t used it in 6 months, this is a highly suspicious unitasker and perhaps is only good for taking up space.

3. Is there another way to use this gadget that I haven’t thought of? If you can think of more than one use, you might be able to turn a unitasker into a multitasker.

4. Can I replace this gadget with something else I already have? If the answer is yes, then give the unitasker away–it isn’t any good to you.

What about you? What unitaskers have you replaced with a multitasker?

Here’s a cool wallpaper from Trove. Although there’s frustratingly little description of it on their site, it looks like it is made up of old photos of the balcony of an opera. Close up:

Kinda like little ghosts watching what you do.

I find it intriguing. If used right in a room, it could be very impressive.

Now look, I don’t promise to do all these things. However, it occurred to me as I contemplated giving my house a thorough cleaning tomorrow that it would go better if I had a kind of game plan–a list, if you will–of what I need to do. Some people would find this list annoying or bossy, but I like it. It makes me feel more organized and it keeps me from skipping things. Here it is:

My Spring Cleaning List

In Every Room:

Sweep and mop all floors
Dust sides, tops, and inside of all furniture
Clean the trim around windows and doors
Dust lamps and lights
Dust all art
Water all plants
Generally pick up and de-clutter
Clean mirrors, windows, and paintings with glass fronts
Vacuum/beat all rugs
Take out trash
Write a list of things to sell
Write a list of things I need

In Specific Rooms:

Scrub baseboards in hall and kitchen
Hang up clothes in bedroom
Organize bedroom closet and remove clothes I don’t like
Ditto bureau
Change sheets in bedroom
Tidy up books and magazines in office
Clean and organize pantry
Wipe down all kitchen cupboards
Clean outside of all kitchen appliances
Clean the trashcan (Yes! Even this has to be done sometimes.)
Organize under sink
Clean kitchen sink
Cat box
Vacuum leather furniture
Bleach and clean bathtub/shower
Toilets
De-chicken the guest room (i.e. remove the brooder, dust, sweep, etc.)
Organize guest room closet
Clean and bleach the entire guest room bathroom
Organize coat closet

Things I Can Skip:

Blinds. I don’t wanna.
The stovetop in the kitchen. My husband’s turn.
The hood over the stove. Because, gross.

I don’t think I’m missing anything.