Mother Innovation

Our Seniorville home came with three challenges. To break up the height of the wall, the architect put plant shelves in the entrance hall and along one wall in the living room and dining room. Some homes I have been in have all sorts of fake or real antiques, vases, wooden animals, wire sculptures, and/or artificial plants decorating the shelves. One person has a collection of ticking clocks that ring, chime, ding or dong every hour on the hour. (I took off my hearing aides until I left her home.)

I’ve seen plants and bric-a-brac on high shelves in restaurants, but restaurants have professional cleaning services to climb up and dust. After a year of staring at the empty shelves in my home, I decided to compromise. We put some colorful stuff on the foyer shelves but left the living room and dining area bare. Since I do not intend to dust the sky-high bric-a-brac on a weekly basis, I figured the dust would not be noticeable in the dimly lit foyer. However, since those guests who have had cataract surgery would be able to spot it in the bright light of my dining room, those shelves are dramatically bare.

Another challenge we had to deal with was the A/C filter that some “genius” installed in an 18-foot ceiling. I don’t know of any acrobatic senior who dares or desires to climb up a 12-foot ladder once a month to replace a filter. The first time I saw a ceiling filter was when my brother moved into a Seniorville near me 9 years ago. “How will you change the filter?” Hubby asked, pointing to the sky-high filter.

Big Bro, who never had central air until moving South, replied, “It’s a permanent filter – we paid extra.”

He was not happy when Hubby explained that permanent meant you could hose it down monthly and then put it back up.

Obviously, necessity is the mother of invention because someone invented a sealed filter that can go into the A/C handler even if it is in the garage. You know who bought it as soon as we replaced our 9-year-old A/C a few months ago. Now, instead of doing it ourselves, it will replaced once a year when the A/C is serviced. Cost conscious Hubby quickly informed me it was much cheaper than hiring someone to climb on the ladder to change the filter monthly and even cheaper that the box of filters we used per year.

The third problem acted up today. Our fire alarm started chirping this morning. It is also perched in our 18-foot hard to reach ceiling. If it was up to me, I would yank it out, but Hubby told me if our house burns down, we won’t be insured. Please let me know if this is true – one friend asked how anyone would know since I’m not connected to the fire station but Hubby insists we are connected to something. In the meantime, he is off to the store to buy a 5-year nine-volt battery. It’s expensive, but since the handy man who climbs the ladder to change the battery charges more than the battery, it isn’t that expensive. Since he can’t come until tomorrow afternoon, I am trying to figure out how to shut the stupid “bird” up so I can sleep tonight. I would throw a shoe at it, but unlike a noisy pigeon on a windowsill, it won’t fly away. Instead, I will go to bed with cotton stuffed into my ears and try to become Mother Necessity in my sleep and invent something that will be successful so I can continue to pay for all these new cost saving items.

Tight Squeeze

Trying to hang family pictures, awards, and a collection of maps was the greatest challenge I’ve had since the move. You see, they once occupied the walls of a long hallway and two bedrooms and my challenge was to get them all into the walls of a 10 x 12 foot office that I share with my husband. Unlike our old house, these ceilings are the high ones, so I did have equivalent wall space – it’s just that Hubby didn’t expect me to literally use all of it. While I was nailing away, he was insisting I was making his office look like a cave decorated with floor to ceiling paintings. I pointed out that there were two desks and two computers in our office. By the time I was done, we compromised. The space directly over his computer was an “eye resting area” – not a picture for him to see - just a plain bone colored wall as he wanted.

I’ve always had one unwritten rule for hanging pictures and mirrors in highly visible spots: make sure I like what I’ll see since I’ll see it a lot. I intentionally hung a picture of a skinny me facing my desk and placed another one of skinny me with my grandkids on my desk. I have literally taken off 3 pounds since I unpacked and hung our pictures a few days ago. Every time I’m tempted to get up from my desk and head to the kitchen to stuff my mouth, no matter which way I turn, I am confronted by images of a slender me. Until now, I never thought of pictures as diet motivators, but obviously, they work for me.

The unofficial rule for family pictures is not to display them in your formal living room – unless you are the descendant of famous people like George and Martha Washington and have their portrait to hang over your mantel. I think a decorator who had an ugly family or infamous relatives and didn’t want them on display came up with this rule.

There is another unofficial rule someone told me about today for family pictures in the bedroom. Only put up pictures of relatives who never upset you. If you stare into the face of a loved one that has just upset you, you might not have sweet dreams. Hmmm. That eliminates anyone over 21, including Hubby and yours truly. It leaves only my grandkids and their dog.

Decorating Disaster

When we were first married, Hubby and I shopped for our furniture together. It was quickly obvious to me that we had different taste. We compromised on all choices. I was a new bride and enjoyed the experience of having my new husband take part in the decorating of our home. As each individual piece of furniture arrived, I was anything but ecstatic. Our living room was a hodgepodge of colors and styles that did not jell. Even the word "eclectic" was not suitable. My mother told me it was my fault. “What do men know about decorating?” she asked. “Besides, they forget what they picked two minutes after you leave the store.”

“The salesperson was a man,” I said.

“So? See what a mess he made of it. Men just know how to sell. Do you know any man that can match his socks to his pants?”

I could not argue with her on that point. My father wore white socks with everything and I was already coordinating my husband’s clothes.

Every time I vacuumed, I didn’t care if something was nicked. Silently, when my oversized aunt sat on the sofa, I hoped it would collapse. I fanaticized about painting the wood on the buffet a color I liked.

When we moved to Florida 35 years ago, a new friend gave me great advice. “The person who cleans is the one who must love the furniture. If not, you’ll get no pride when you finish your house work.” I listened and left Hubby home while I shopped for new living room furniture. He was busy starting a new business and was visibly relieved when I only consulted him when I was down to two or three choices that I loved. This time the finished product was one I adored.

Then we moved a few months ago, and my perfect furnishings looked vey imperfect in my new surroundings. Since you know who has time on his hands, guess who is shopping with me for new furniture. It has been almost 50 years since we last did this, and do you know what? NOTHING has changed. Hubby still has strong opinions on what we need and where we should buy, and I am compromising my views or just giving in as I did years ago – with the same results. The new items are arriving and instead of being ecstatic, I am down in the dumps.

I told him I have no choice but to change our house rules unless he lets me make the decisions on all the rest of the things we need. Since he loves everything we are getting, he will have to take over the dusting and vacuuming (my jobs), and I will take care of the outside – his responsibility. I love the gardens and the flowers that surround our retirement paradise, especially since our development’s fees include all ourside maintenance.

Hubby told me to go back to shopping solo and let him know when I’m down to two choices. He knows a good deal – when it comes to maintaining our home.




.