Domestic Psychology

Sounds like winter

// December 2nd, 2011 // No Comments » // home, life

Our tiny neighborhood’s hills, trees and creeks combine to create an acoustic oddity that peaks when the leaves have fallen and the air is crisp. Unlike the muted, echoed or separated tracks of noise that you hear in a city, everyday noises blend in our spoon shaped hood to create a perfectly mixed symphony.

It’s a phenomenon that is so noticeable, prior to the real estate crash, a local band rented a home on the next street for the sole purpose of practicing. On their practice nights, every household opened their windows to breathe the musical notes dancing in the air.

During the day, the delivery trucks loop through each cove, like a soloist who briefly stands at the main microphone, before sitting down and rejoining the singularity of the orchestra. Dogs howling at airplanes overhead slow the music down to a melancholy that is universal. The sounds of children in every direction, both calm and energize the collective soundtrack.

Sometimes, I have to sit motionless and silent on the front steps, to let my body absorb the magical sounds in the sweet spot that is my home.

postcard perfect

// June 3rd, 2011 // No Comments » // flickr, home

squirrel in the kudzu

// March 6th, 2011 // No Comments » // home, television

Doug knows that the quickest way to make me quit whining is to distract me. His distraction for my kudzu project complaining is project detail discussions. I don’t mind this particular distraction. The decade of ducks as a bathroom theme has ended and we have a new theme that is going to require a lot more effort to pull together. While the end result will be worth it, getting there is making this project akin to sweating blood.

“That is funny, but it doesn’t go with the theme.”
“Sure it does. It’s just a parallel universe connection to our theme.”
“No. It would look like a haunted house bathroom. Besides, that hand is a plot hole.”
“You know you like the idea.”
“I’ll think about it.”

Kudzu Project Options

// February 7th, 2011 // No Comments » // home

Since there is still no way to bathe in our house and I can almost braid the hair on my legs, I have compiled a list of possible choices.

1. Apply for federal disaster aid to hire a contractor. – I don’t think self made problems compare to acts of nature, but Doug IS a force of something, so maybe it’s an option.
2. Declare ourselves a first world homestead. – This one probably won’t fly either, but perhaps someone will make an independent film about us and we can charge $750 per group tour. That money could be used for a licensed contractor and/or choice #3.
3. Stay at a hotel while Doug does construction. – The problem with this choice is the laundry for our family requires daily efforts or it becomes insurmountable. Of course, the water to the house has been on and off so much lately that laundry isn’t getting done fast enough anyway. I guess the only real problem with a hotel is that I would miss the 200 pounds of snuggly, furry, foot warmer at night.
4. Mormon missionaries – If you actually open your door for door-to-door Mormon salesmen and women, you know that they always offer to help with whatever excuse you give to avoid talking about their church. They are so polite and friendly that I believe they would get their short sleeve button downs dirty working on a stranger’s bathtub. Still, this is my very least favorite choice, so let’s pretend I didn’t even list it.
5. Build a quick hippie shower in the front yard. – With the groundhog’s promise that spring is near, I strongly suspect that rainwater showers are in our future. Doug will declare this as some sort of spiritual connection to nature, but I will refuse to accept that bathing in the front yard is an improvement over the current washcloth baths in the kitchen sink choice.

Updated with new ideas:
6. Shower only membership to a gym. – This seemed like a good idea until I saw it in writing. Now, it sounds like a Roman bath house and that is NOT what I need.

three different ones – pt. 3

// February 1st, 2011 // 3 Comments » // home, me

The boys stripped the upstairs bathroom down to nothing and the downstairs bathroom, directly below, became the only toilet for our seven person household. The youngest children hate the basement bathroom. It has been stripped down to the concrete foundation and cinderblock walls, so it is very, very cold. I dislike the cold seat, but my current complaint is the large hole in the ceiling where the upstairs bathtub plumbing has been removed. It is disconcerting to sit down in the bathroom beneath demolition noises while sawdust pours down from above. It is downright constipating to have family members peek down from above to ask questions about things like drain height at a time when you reaaaally need privacy.

All of that is just a long way of saying that I was feeling . . . cranky about some aspects of the kudzu project. I slumped around the house, trying to find where the children put the toothpaste while I talked on the phone. I spotted the toothpaste on the kitchen table, beside a small propane torch. You know, because everyone’s kitchen table has a torch and toothpaste on it.

Armed with toothpaste, I turned toward the kitchen sink where toothbrushing occurs during the kudzu project. My first step forward became a slide as I put my foot down on the unseen until that moment, square frame with wheels that Doug calls a dolly. There was nothing I could do to stop myself from doing a Jerry Lewis quality pratfall. My head and back hit the floor as my well padded seat and right leg slammed down on the aforementioned dolly of death.

“Did you hear that noise?” “Yes. What was it?” “That was me breaking my b*tt. I need to call you back after I curl up on the floor and cry.”

How not to: move furniture

// October 11th, 2010 // 1 Comment » // home, me

I rearrange furniture. It forces me to clean nooks and crannies that are usually ignored. It allows me an excuse to declutter drawers and shelves. I find lost treasures and for a little while, I know where absolutely everything is located in that room. It makes a room feel fresh and new. I do it, because I like it. My OCD family members get twitchy when things are moved. They hate to clean. They would prefer if nothing was ever thrown away or donated to one of the downtown charities. They tolerate my playing dollhouse with their actual house, but they don’t understand it.

Because it brings me joy and causes them confusion, I try to do the furniture moving myself. Yesterday, the object of my obsession was our bedroom. There are several methods for moving furniture short distances. There is the put your back on a wall and shove the furniture with your hands and/or feet technique. The reverse of that is putting your hands and/or feet on the wall and shoving with your back technique. When a wall isn’t nearby, put your back on the furniture and shove while your feet act like anchors.

Sometimes, things like chairs and mirrors are easier to lift than push. When carrying heavy furniture, set it on your feet in between steps. Lift, step, step, set on feet, gasp, repeat. Pedestal beds allow you an excuse to use the normally ineffective, shin shove. The last, and probably least effective technique, is the pull which is necessary in the narrow gaps created by accidentally cramming all the furniture in the center of the room.

The next day, your entire body will hurt and you will have colorful bruises on your shins. You should moan and complain that you are coming down with the plague. “Honey? I need you to Google ‘everything hurts’ and tell me if I’m dying.” After you stub your toe on a table that you forgot has a new spot in the room, vow to spend the rest of the week on a project that can be done while sitting.

Forget this vow two days later when you decide to clean the top of the kitchen cabinets.

I painted a door.

// July 4th, 2010 // 1 Comment » // home, kid quotes

Evan: “Awesome! I want to paint too.”
Amy: “Cool! Paint my door next.”
Noah: “When I have my own place, I’m gonna paint ALL the doors and walls with chalkboard paint.”
Sarah: “Sooooo, WHY did you paint Evan’s door black?”
Tommy: “Where’s Evan’s door?”

Home repair and improvements require at least three trips to the hardware store to replace broken/lost tools and/or supplies.

Ex. – “I can’t find the basin wrench, so I have to go back to Home Depot. The water is turned off.”

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