February 25, 2003

• On Being Flexible

  
  

  Like Mary Poppins, my measuring tape says I'm Practically Perfect in Every Way.  The older I get, the more I'm convinced that the world would be a much happier place if the people around me would accept the validity of my perfection and adjust themselves accordingly. 

  
  

  But, if I have a flaw, any imperfection however slight, it would have to be in the area of flexibility.  Being practically perfect, I see no reason to change my ways, my surroundings, or my habits to any drastic degree.  So, when circumstances dictate adjustment on my part, I have a hesitancy that arises from the fiber of my being.  Why should I change, I was already happy in my perfect state of being?  Change is almost always a means of accommodating some lesser mortal and therefore if I must, (because I'm perfectly gracious, so I will make accommodation to be polite) doesn't it seem reasonable that the cause for my inconvenience should offer some sort of apology?

  
  

  I've been trying to think of how I can extract an apology from the most recent intruder into my happy realm but nothing has occurred to me yet.  Are you wondering what I'm talking about?  Would you like me to get of the Mary Poppins Carousel and speak plainly?

  
  

  Dear reader, a weight machine has come into my life.  A machine that I, because of my arthritis cannot use.  Tim had mentioned that he'd like to own a weight bench.  He had one when we were first married that we had to dispose of in some move or another.  Now he wants another.  That's reasonable.  I pictured something like he had before which took up approximately the same amount of space as a card table.  So I cleared a corner.  I was generous, I cleared a large corner. 

  
  

  But, the apparatus that is currently sitting in my livingroom needs more than a corner.  This piece of machinery takes nine feet of length and eight feet of width.  The weight bar itself is beyond my capacity to lift.  I don't know what happened between the store and my house, but I swear the thing expanded by at least 50%.  The torture device used on Wesley in the Princess Bride would fit better into the corner than this monstrosity. 

  
  

  Once it became apparent that Tim was serious about keeping this abomination, it was immediately obvious where in the house it had to go.  The only place big enough to accommodate it, is my reading corner.  So today, I'm moving my things out.  The table goes here, the chair goes there, and I think the desk will be lost altogether.  The reading corner existed in the sitting area adjacent to my bedroom.  Now, that space will be a gym.  I'm thinking a nice wooden screen between the bedroom proper and the place of sweat and metal will help my sensibilities.

  
  

  But, in the meantime.  I have every intention of pouting, making snide comments, and generally expressing my unhappiness over this snake that has slithered into my little paradise.  Now if you have any idea how I can force this indigity to apologize, I'm open to suggestion.

  
  

  Addendum
           

  
  

  Happy Days are Here Again! 

  
  

  Fugitive is a furniture arranging genius.  A freaking genius, I tell you.  From four states away, she has solved my problem in a way that will relieve me of all need to pout, be snide or express unhappiness.  I will have to rearrange more of the house, but essentially, she has shown me the light.  I KEEP the reading corner.  AND, Tim gets his OWN room (which he needs as much as I need my reading corner anyway).  I have to move the schoolroom out into the family room.  But, in the end this is better by far than any arrangement I had previously considered. 

  
  

  I could have just deleted this post, but then you'd have missed the opportunity to laugh at me over my unattractive rigidity and this way Fugitive gets glory for being the genius that she is. 

  • 11:04 am
  • 20 Comments