Posts
Saturday, January 26
home sweet home
I've been a little quiet lately on the blog. That's because we've been living at my parents' house now for more than a week as a result of the aforementioned home remodeling plans. Insert your pity here.
Yes, we have officially been inducted into the Formerly-Naive-But-Wiser-Now Home Renovator Hall of Fame, as our "small" projects have covered our house in toxic dust and driven us out in the street quicker than a band of conservative hecklers at the Democratic National Convention. Who knows when we'll be back in our own space -- I certainly don't, and Mike doesn't, and apparently neither do our work crews, because I keep asking them and they keep mumbling about drywall and electrical conduit without looking me in the eye.
Returning with your whole family to live with your parents eighteen years after you moved out feels almost exactly like being back in high school, except that it's a lot more crowded. On the one hand, it's great to have so much help again with all the stuff that you took for granted when you were sixteen, like meals and laundry. On the other hand, I keep having to report my plans and phone in my whereabouts with alarming frequency.
I am also reminded constantly of things I left behind in my former life, like how leftovers always have to be stacked in the refrigerator just so, unless you'd like to face THE PAIN OF DEATH, or my father obnoxiously yelling TELEPHONE! at the top of his lungs every time the phone rings, even though we're all occupying the same 300 square feet of family room and none of us has noticeable hearing loss.
This morning I got another whiff of something else that I had forgotten. My dad and I were leaving the house at the same time for separate destinations, and he caught me off guard with two words he always said as I walked out the door for school or church or wherever: "Be sweet."
Along the way, I have lost a lot of my sweetness, and judging from what I see around me, the world has, too. My dad reminded me this morning that we all need to start consciously putting some of it back.
Yes, we have officially been inducted into the Formerly-Naive-But-Wiser-Now Home Renovator Hall of Fame, as our "small" projects have covered our house in toxic dust and driven us out in the street quicker than a band of conservative hecklers at the Democratic National Convention. Who knows when we'll be back in our own space -- I certainly don't, and Mike doesn't, and apparently neither do our work crews, because I keep asking them and they keep mumbling about drywall and electrical conduit without looking me in the eye.
Returning with your whole family to live with your parents eighteen years after you moved out feels almost exactly like being back in high school, except that it's a lot more crowded. On the one hand, it's great to have so much help again with all the stuff that you took for granted when you were sixteen, like meals and laundry. On the other hand, I keep having to report my plans and phone in my whereabouts with alarming frequency.
I am also reminded constantly of things I left behind in my former life, like how leftovers always have to be stacked in the refrigerator just so, unless you'd like to face THE PAIN OF DEATH, or my father obnoxiously yelling TELEPHONE! at the top of his lungs every time the phone rings, even though we're all occupying the same 300 square feet of family room and none of us has noticeable hearing loss.
This morning I got another whiff of something else that I had forgotten. My dad and I were leaving the house at the same time for separate destinations, and he caught me off guard with two words he always said as I walked out the door for school or church or wherever: "Be sweet."
Along the way, I have lost a lot of my sweetness, and judging from what I see around me, the world has, too. My dad reminded me this morning that we all need to start consciously putting some of it back.
What happened?