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Today's gem is brought to you by Valerie, one of my many (two) readers who is searching for her own dream home. The realtor described this home as "slightly blemished." You be the judge. Let's start with the living room. One can only assume the sofas have seen better days and the sheets covering them were the best available option. Love that the power strip is located in the MIDDLE of the room. Don't trip when touring the home! Notice Santa in the window sill to the left? It's APRIL, people! I think this is one of those dancing Santas, so perhaps the thought is he'd entertain guests who are sitting gingerly on the edges of those sofas waiting for the host to bring them a refreshing glass of Kool-Aid. We'll move into the kitchen where the breakfast (and dinner, and previous breakfast and dinner) dishes are patiently waiting to be washed. The frying pan full of cooking oil is a nice touch. Nothing screams "house fire" like a brown coating of grease on the side of the refrigerator beside the stove. A full-sized table lamp serves as ambient lighting for those romantic meals. Let's check out a bedroom or two. (I think this homeowner collects lamps.) I personally think leaving the vacuum out for a real estate photo speaks volumes for the cleanliness of the property, don't you agree? However, the ashtray in the middle of the bed suggests otherwise. I wonder if these people own a fire extinguisher? Below is another bedroom, this one looks spacious enough, with all the stuffed animals cowering in the corner. I wondered why they just didn't shove everything into the closet but I suspect the stuffed toys are holding the door closed to prevent whatever's inside from exploding into the room. At first Valerie and I thought this was a sauna and the backpack was highly suspect. On closer inspection, I see a bar for hanging clothes. So this is likely a cedar closet. The backpack is probably simply filled with linens or cocaine. This home had three bathrooms. The other two were full of the usual clutter of toiletries and used towels but this one struck my fancy as it was the neatest. Yet, they left an empty toilet paper roll on display. Plus, I don't know what's going on with that strip of plastic at the bottom of the window shade. Intriguing. Finally, no set of real estate photos is complete without showing the basement.
This one is finished and can serve as a guest room for friends, family or kidnap victims. The microwave bedside table is a nice touch. No one wants to go all the way upstairs to the kitchen to heat up their midnight snack of Hot Pockets. If you've read some of my previous posts, you know this about me:
I'm not an interior designer, but I work in an industry full of designers. As a byproduct, I'm developing my own basic set of aesthetics. The photo below is the wallpaper on my work computer. It's my happy place. I want a room like this in my future dream home. It will be where I relax, write, and commune with nature without allowing pesky Minnesota mosquitoes to interrupt my bliss. I've looked at hundreds of houses online and I've seen some beautifully staged homes. But every once in a while I come across photos where the least bit of effort could have improved a room before a photo was taken. For example, in this photo of a cozy living room in a small home, below. I have two suggestions for the realtor. 1. Remove the two blankets draped over the chairs. 2. Put the cat in another room while taking the picture! There are other things I'd recommend - like removing one of the chairs, the tv tray and the table/printer to open the room up and make it look more spacious. But the cat! This just looks like a family picture of Mr. Whiskers instead of a real estate photo. We love you, Mr. Whiskers, but get out of the shot! Note: This is not about feminism.
2nd note: This is about being an independent human/worker. 3rd note: This could be about "laziness", if we are searching for labels. I haven't decided yet. I know, possibly work with, a person - a woman - who is afflicted with what I like to call Damsel In Distress Syndrome. Henceforth, to be referred to as D.I.D.S. This person, despite having been fully trained on the functions of her role, continues to act confused about performing said functions. I've come to the conclusion, after repeatedly educating her on those functions, that she really just wants someone else to perform those tasks on her behalf. It's kind of like when you pretend you don't know how to properly load the dishwasher and you pile everything on the top shelf, nothing on the bottom and your partner sighs loudly and says, "Nevermind, I'll do it myself!" and edges you out of the way and you go plop happily on the sofa, switch the channel to YOUR favorite show, smugly content that you got out of that chore. Because you manipulated someone else to do it. I haven't decided if this woman with D.I.D.S. is that clever, but she is definitely practiced in playing the "helpless f*ck." Years of practice. Well, I'm not a D.I.D.S. enabler. I'm going to break her of it, somehow. I've already tried:
Of course, none of these have been effective enough to break decades-old habits, so I welcome suggestions. Minnesotans love to throw around the state's unofficial slogan "Minnesota Nice."
When I first moved to Minnesota, I thought, "It's true, they really are nice here!" And, on the surface, they are nice. They are polite, smile and nod in passing or talk to you about the weather or your car when at the gas pump. They'll hold doors open and make small talk when waiting in line. When you have something in common, they'll chat with you about that - for instance, when my daughter was in preschool, the other moms and I would talk about our kids, the school and even schedule play dates for our kids. Coworkers will invite you to lunch or happy hour and talk about work, partners, kids and so on. There's no shortage of pleasant, daily interactions available with Minnesotans. But I found it impossible to develop more meaningful relationships with these Minnesotans - the other moms, my coworkers. Even people with whom I had so much in common. I'd try inviting them lunch outside of work - say, on the weekend. Or to events like craft shows, or to see a movie. Their responses were alike - they begged off, other commitments, something with family, and so on. But thanked me for thinking of them. This happened so frequently - my inability to connect with all these nice people - that I began to suspect there was something about me that was not likable. What was I doing wrong? Was it my breath? But then I talked to a few other transplants to Minnesota and found out they had similar experiences. Even after years living in Minnesota, they had a huge circle of acquaintances but no close friends yet. So, it wasn't just me! I've finally made some friends here and it only took twenty years. Minnesotans are nice - they are pleasant, agreeable. But when it comes to more meaningful relationships and friendships, they truly are a standoffish bunch. I dreamed my work desk was replaced by a student desk. This dream came after the director of our department showed my team the floor plan of our new work space. We've outgrown our current space and need more room for storage and design. But apparently mostly for design. My role is administrative. I handle the day-to-day financial and sales tasks. Nothing glamorous. There are three of us in this role. We primarily support sales staff, though we also assist designers. We are outnumbered 2-to-1 by designers on our team. It's become increasingly evident that the designers are revered by our director. She takes them out for special lunches and coffee. She touches base with them anytime she's in, while I can't get her to respond to most of my emails. She sits with them to chat. And they've been given about 75-80% of our new work space. I'm low in the office hierarchy and nowhere is it more apparent than on my team. I don't have a degree in interior design but I have years of administrative experience and skills that help keep our department functioning. I looked at the floor plan and saw our three desks relegated to a far corner of the new office space, away from the designers' realm. I saw our storage capacity was reduced by more than half. I felt the hot flare I always feel in my gut whenever faced with an unfair and unbalanced situation. I said nothing and tried to forget it. But I dreamed about the desk. In my dream we had moved to our new space and I went to sit in my new desk. All my file cabinets and storage systems were gone and I was faced with a simple student desk with a wire basket under the chair. I felt diminished and underappreciated. "Why do you care so, much about these things? It's just a J.O.B" a former coworker's voice echoes in my head. "Because it's not fair. It's not right." I know she'd roll her eyes and shrug. "It's just a job - a means for pay. Be grateful you have it." She's right, I know. It's just a J.O.B. Time, again, for me to stifle my silly ideals. |
About Sally FarleyI'm a typical, hardworking Midwesterner, enduring (and sometimes participating in) the passive-aggressive complexities of life in Minnesota. ArchivesLinksAsk a Manager
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