RM column May 1 - Closing doors
SOME of you will remember that we have moved recently from a small, cramped and totally inadequate two-bedroom(ish) flat we lived in for far too many years. We have gone from cold, drafty, old and nearly dilapidated accommodation to a snazzy, warm, well-maintained and newly decorated two-bedroom cottage and we love it.
I don’t know whether it is down to a manic-amount of washing machine loads, the thrill of having a washing machine still has not waned and when we first moved in I would say every item we possess has been washed, but our electricity bills have been too high for my liking. As a result I find myself pulling out plugs on phone charges, turning off lights, turning off the electric shower at the main when not in use and saying things that would make my Dad proud.
Things like ‘it is like Piccadilly Circus in here’ in reference to the fact that every conceivable light has been switched on in the house. My Dad said that to us all the time when we were kids and I laughed out loud the first time I heard it pass from my lips.
One of the other amazing things we have gained since moving has been cupboard/storage space.
Now I can buy the more economic bulk items because we have places to store them. For years I was unable to do anything like that, there just wasn’t the room to put it anywhere in the last place.
The funny thing is we have twice as many cupboards in the kitchen than in the previous flat and somehow, God knows how, the stuff I had somehow has filled up the twice as many cupboards with little room to spare.
I have no idea how that happened because I took the opportunity to cull so much during the move, yet somehow my kitchen stuff has reproduced with a population explosion spreading to filling out all the available space.
It would also appear that we have a poltergeist because every time I walk into the kitchen all the cupboard doors are open, so I close them all up again.
This happens a couple of times a night, of course the poltergeist is a 16-year-old who seems to find the closing of doors abhorrent. The battle cry at night time when she goes to her bedroom is ‘shut the door after you’ or ‘this isn’t the star ship Enterprise’ or ‘were you born in a hospital with revolving doors?’ so I suppose it makes sense this ‘born in a field’ mentality follows through to the kitchen as well as her bedroom.
One of the worst things about the other flat was the fact that the first thing you saw when you walked in was her room in all its filthy glory. Now you see into her room as you leave the house and straight into the outrageously messy build-in wardrobe in her room.
Whether I like it or not, the cupboard pulls me like a siren (without the pleasure of course) and before I know it I am tut-tutting at how messy her new room is.
So I offered her a little advice last night, if you even want to pretend that your room isn’t the cess-pit that it is, either close the bloody door or at the very least close the wardrobe door. Then I won’t get pulled in and what I don’t know what hurt me. However I think that is being too sensible so for now I will just keep closing doors.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
RM column May 1 - Closing doors