This carpet is in a closet, which explains why it’s kind of dirty. Don’t remember to vacuum the carpet very often. Housewife Extraordinaire I am certainly not.
But I try. I really do.
Next, we have the wallpaper flap that my 4-year old tore last week. It’s hard to see the color, but we see two different shades from the same family. Let’s call them, say, Fleshy Pink, with carnation pink peeking out from underneath.
That means for several years this bathroom sported the following colors: pink, burgundy, black, and light blue.
Can we call that a color scheme? The word “scheme” suggests an essence of planning. I don’t really see that here. It’s the color wheel on drugs.
At this point, one wonders if there is possibly a mental disorder that causes people to latch onto one color and never let go. I bet I know what color this lady’s robe was … and her favorite pair of polyester pants … and the afghans that she knitted for her granddaughters.
Now, don’t get me wrong. Ever since taking a good look around the house, I’ve noticed some of the things that we have which I previously thought were “old” and “ugly. ” And yes, they are old, but since deciding to work with this 1953 ranch house (rather than against it), I’ve begun to reassess some things.
In our kitchen, for example, we have an original Nutone exhaust fan. Don’t squint too much at the picture or try to enlarge it, because I don’t want you to notice the dust and grease that are inevitably one with the fan. And those fingerprints? They don’t exist. It must be your imagination.
I also have some original cabinet hardware in my bathroom which I only paid close attention to the other day, when I had cabinet hardware on the brain after looking at it all day on the ‘net. It’s subtle, but it is totally 50s. The gentle bow, the shining chrome … I’ve developed a brand new appreciation for it. Of course, it would look a lot better if the rest of the bathroom contained the original chrome fixtures that surely were there (recessed toilet paper holder, etc), but I’ll take what I can get at this point. It’s refreshing to see at least a couple things that weren’t painted PINK.
One of my newest favorite things about this house is a recent import. I was scouring the ‘net looking for a black rotary dial phone. Why, exactly, would I want to go back to the god-forsaken method of rotary dialing when I could whip out my cordless and not be tethered by ever-tangling cords? Well, that one is simple. My cordless phone sucks.
Before discussing my cool retro phone, let me digress for just a second. I have a “newfangled” 5.8 gigahertz phone — one that should be way better than the 900 megahertz phone I owned about 7 years ago. The two phones are very different on this point: the 900 megahertz phone worked a lot better than this one. With the 900, I could walk around my entire yard and still get great reception. With the 5.8, I can’t even walk out on my front porch without the static starting in. With this disgust fresh in my mind, I went searching for a phone that worked no matter what. Sure, I can’t walk around with it, but at least I’ll hear it ring when I’m dead.
Anyway, after looking high and low for a phone that was within my price range (who knew that rotary dial phones were all the rage, especially red ones?), I found a website that had reasonable prices and an interesting selection. I selected a black rotary dial phone, and it shipped in about 4 days. The phone, though from the 80s rather than the 50s, has a ring that can be heard when I’m outside, and it also gives me a little jolt of nostalgia ever time I hear it. My one regret is that I didn’t find a phone that was fully modular, meaning that the cord has removable jacks at both ends so I can switch out the short cord for a longer one. At present, I can merely stand there and talk on the phone. No biggie. Once I get the new countertop, it’ll force me to stand there while I admire the little sparklies in the quartzite.