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This is going to be about me wanting to move into a farmhouse. If you're not into this kind of yuppie-hippie fantasy, skip it.
All the time I get confused by the fact that there's no foyer here and no mudroom. There's no place, or not enough place, to keep the coats, or drop the things that need to be sorted and put away while you hang up your bag and keys. There's no staging area, although we've tried to make areas in the house to do that. There's still a lot of inefficient wandering about the house and misplacing things.
In my mother's house, the mud room is the laundry room. Appropriate, really, when your clothes are messed up, you can disrobe, grab a towel (there's always a few extras there) and hie you to the shower.
It was the same in my grandmother's house. Right there in the laundry, even with a little shower room on the side. This way my grandfather could change out of his farm clothes, all dirty and sweaty, and shower off without tracking all through the house. It doubled duty as a place for dog-washing supplies, changing into and out of bathing suits, cutting watermelons, storing the extra Thanksgiving leftovers...
I just discovered the kitten looking intently at a pile of plastic sorting baskets Charlie has stacked in the kitchen. They aren't in their interlocked position, just haphazard inside one another. I said to Charlie, "Uh oh, she's discovered Mount Kittymanjaro." Ok, it's a bad joke, but I love this bit, where everything is a challenge and a curiosity.
All the time I get confused by the fact that there's no foyer here and no mudroom. There's no place, or not enough place, to keep the coats, or drop the things that need to be sorted and put away while you hang up your bag and keys. There's no staging area, although we've tried to make areas in the house to do that. There's still a lot of inefficient wandering about the house and misplacing things.
In my mother's house, the mud room is the laundry room. Appropriate, really, when your clothes are messed up, you can disrobe, grab a towel (there's always a few extras there) and hie you to the shower.
It was the same in my grandmother's house. Right there in the laundry, even with a little shower room on the side. This way my grandfather could change out of his farm clothes, all dirty and sweaty, and shower off without tracking all through the house. It doubled duty as a place for dog-washing supplies, changing into and out of bathing suits, cutting watermelons, storing the extra Thanksgiving leftovers...
I just discovered the kitten looking intently at a pile of plastic sorting baskets Charlie has stacked in the kitchen. They aren't in their interlocked position, just haphazard inside one another. I said to Charlie, "Uh oh, she's discovered Mount Kittymanjaro." Ok, it's a bad joke, but I love this bit, where everything is a challenge and a curiosity.
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