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News from the construction site - The Lyorn's Den

Fri Jul. 7th, 2006

03:46 pm - News from the construction site

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We have a new front door now. And new doors to the flats. They are white and heavy and do not rattle when it's windy. There is also a new doorbell system. My "doorbell", currently, gives some science-fiction-y whine that I consistently fail to notice. I have to read the manual and do something about that sound. I'd love to have a good, old fashioned "rrrrinnng" or "ding-dong", or even "brrrrt", but as this new device creates its sounds digitally, I'll probably be stuck with something that sounds like a computer crying for help and won't wake me up even when set at top volume. Maybe if I make it loud enough, my neighbor will bang against the ceiling when someone rings at my door.

The layers of mud which have accumulated over the last year are gone from the windows, and the garbage and detritus outside has mostly been cleared away. That makes the lack of trees even more noticeable. I do not get woken anymore by drills and pneumatic hammers.

Yet, the housing company seems to have discovered that they really love digging up the neighborhood. Their next project is building a new house with about 25 flats 150 metres down the road, and an underground parking lot.

I've considered moving, but at this time of year I remember exactly what I love about my place (apart from it being inexpensive, large, and having a wooden floor): Its cool. Literally. With 30+ °C outside for a week and nights not going below 18°C, my flat has been about 23° max. My office, for comparison, is 32°, and I hate the summer.

All this, and reading a recent entry on Pandagon on McMansions made me build dream houses in my mind again. (Just in case I win the lottery, you know. It never hurts to be prepared.) While I agree with Amanda and most of her commenters that McMansions are conspiciuous consumption, irresponsible, and ugly to boot, the very thought of having so much space (which, in my imagination, is cool and silent and uncluttered) around me makes me feel calm and peaceful and happy inside. I love space. I love large rooms with dark wooden floors and high white ceilings. Years ago, when I first came into a friend's gigantic uncluttered white living room, I was rolling on the white carpet with joy.

My dream home has a large kitchen, with a table that will comfortably seat twelve, and sixteen in a pinch. An "engine room" with a dishwasher, a washing machine and a freezer. A pantry in the basement, cool enough to store potatoes and fruit and wine. A living room with sofas and armchairs and cushions on the floor and bookshelves so high that they come with a ladder. Two guest rooms. A bath so large that I never bang my elbows. Another bath, because one is not enough when the house is full. A bedroom facing west so that I never get woken by the sun, with a balcony so I can sleep outside in summer. A music room with good acoustics and lots of electrical outlets. And a drafty attic to dry the washing. Oh, and a large porch next to the kitchen. And, while I'm at it, a tiled stove between kitchen and living room. And solar panels on the roof, fly screen on strategic windows, a doorbell that rings or ding-dongs, a large coat rack in the hall and a garage/workroom for the motorbike and for playing around with paint and wood. And a garden with old trees and roses. I'll even forego the proverbial pony.

No neighbors. I could have my friends over, or sing, or shower, or listen to music any time of the day or night. Have barbecues on the porch in summer. Never bang into furniture again. Not worry about the cats escaping.

Sigh.

I guess I'll buy a lottery ticket this evening, and then I go home and declutter some. Less stuff = more space. Too bad I can't declutter the ceiling-banging neighbors.

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