How does he live like that?

21 Jan

So, my lovely and wonderful Angela posted a link to this:

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2265438/Graham-Hill-See-transforming-New-York-apartment-fits-rooms-just-420-square-feet.html

You don’t have to click on it unless you want to.  It’s some guy who has made his New York studio into a modular apartment where he can make five full rooms because of magic walls and also magic.  Plus he doesn’t appear to own anything.

Leaving me to ask the question, “Where does he keep all his clutter?”

She assured me that there was a closet for his clutter, and also for all five of his outfits.  (Five outfits?! He must, like, LIVE at the laundromat, he sure doesn’t have a tiny green energy efficient washer dryer in there!  What does he do when Baby spits up on him?  Or when Chaos has a tantrum and pelts him with mushed bananas? Or when Chaos pees her pants all day even though she totally knows better? Or maybe he hand washes everything and he pulls a super efficient clothes line across the whole apartment and hangs his wash out to dry?

Most likely he uses a service.

I wish I had a service.) 

My follow up question was, “but if the closet fits five outfits, where does he keep his 17 baskets of old mail and magazines that he doesn’t have time to sort, pineapple tiki lamp, children’s toys and books, CDs and DVDs, four menorahs, selling stand for husband’s CD’s, box full of chargers, framed picture of Chaos that she pulled off the wall so she could admire herself, extremely dusty throw pillows, three different blankets (none of which are currently warming my freezing feet), bag of unwanted things that I ordered through the intertubes that I need to still return, and wooden cash register from the 1920’s that is so heavy he couldn’t possibly lift it?”

See, that was some of the clutter I saw while looking around the living room.  

People wonder how I live like this, so I guess I shouldn’t judge how someone lives like THAT.  I do, though.  How can anyone live like that?  It would make me crazy, to have to put away my bed before I could eat lunch, and to have to set up my table before I could eat lunch. I’d probably end up leaving it in one setup all the time, the bed one, and just rearranging it when company or photographers come and I wanted to show off how efficient I am.

I bet that’s what that guy really does.

In other news, we are all sick, in varying degrees, with Cornelius.  The Bishop has lost his lovely voice, Chaos has an ear infection and Baby has a… oh, I don’t know.  A runny nose.  Maybe he’s teething.  He’s been kind of grumpy and demanding.  He’s past Cornelius, I think, maybe (who could tell with him? His nose hasn’t been runny for two days, so I figured Cornelius was out!) and in that case maybe this is the beginning of Dolores? I hope not. Or if it is Dolores, I hope (as I always do, and it never seems to work) that he is the only one who makes her acquaintance, and that she is short-lived and exceedingly mild mannered. I can hear him coughing now. Oh, baby! My poor guy.

Me, I have a little cough and I’m in a BAD MOOD.  I have a day off tomorrow, where work is closed and daycare is open.  Since this only happens a very few times a year, I am feeling extremely possessive about my day and also convinced it is going to be compromised by a sick kid or some other catastrophe.

The Bishop thinks I’m being weird.

The Bishop was also quite insistent that I do not have teh parasites even though Chaos KEEPS GETTING THEM from someone, and also my scalp itches. So clearly I must not have teh parasites, right? I treated my own head a few days ago and made the Bishop comb me, but I was still itching so I just treated it again and made the Bishop comb me again. I strongly suspect that the Bishop might be bad at combing. I think combing is an acquired skill and I myself am only just starting to get the hang of it. The Bishop is bad at combing because he never finds anything but I know there is SOMETHING THERE.

I fear that the Vermin have set up a 420 square foot condo on my scalp and are looking for places to hide their clutter.

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3 Responses to “How does he live like that?”

  1. semibold January 21, 2013 at 3:48 pm #

    I’m always hugely suspicious of these tiny, spartan apartments. I want to show up unexpectedly with a camera and see what it looks like when they aren’t expecting a visit from someone with a camera. I also suspect they have all their shameful human clutter stashed in a storage space somewhere.

    And also: why would you WANT to live like that? I want some color and art work and fabrics and feel like I could talk above a whisper without disturbing something. I’d also prefer not to have to de-construct and re-construct my apartment every time I want to have a meal or go to bed.

  2. Jackie (@jacqwolk) February 4, 2013 at 10:52 pm #

    I had phantom itchies even after dear hubby swore that I did not have cooties anymore. I think it’s a very mild form of PTSD.

    Except, you know, your kid still has them, and PTSD implies the situation has passed. Never mind…

    Plus I am convinced it is a guy thing to not be good at combing hair. Hygiene wise boys are not raised to know how to handle long hair, or potentially long hair. That sounds sexist, but there are lots of things hygiene wise that boys are probably raised to do that girls are not. (I am totally fine not knowing what those things are.)

  3. ladymishegas February 5, 2013 at 3:04 am #

    Semibold, exactly! I guess if you could only get that many square feet because you lived in Manhattan, but no, actually, even then I would not turn my home into a spartan showpiece of modularity. And I really do not believe that anyone else would either, other than for show.
    Jackie, I bombed my head last night because the itching was too, too bad to be phantom. I did Chaos two days in a row a few weeks ago and she got a clean bill from the pediatrician, but I really felt strongly that I had a colony of newborns happily living on my head. Hopefully Chaos will not get them from me, but if she does, well then we’ll do the whole thing again.

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