Donuts and holes

An old house is full of tiny cracks, holes, crevices. A house is also a slow-leak time sink. It's those holes that are eating minutes and hours methinks. So many days I spend filling/patching numerous holes with my favorite tool(double headed plaster spatula). But it's futile as new gaps are made.



While I was away visiting the OM for four days, C has busily dry-walled, tiled, and painted the bathroom.



My sister J is also renovating her home. J is serious about luxury and quality- she bought a full sized Steinway grand to learn how to play piano. But sadly she was diagnosed with arthritis in one hand so she stopped her lessons. J is also the most generous person I know. She doesn't hold back on anything. Everytime I go to her house, I always comeback with a sackful of goodies and an altered concept of the purpose of money. J can make necessities out of any luxury.



The architect who did the vice presidential residence(during the Gore years) is re-doing her kitchen and 4 bathrooms. When I showed her the pedestal sink C and I had selected, she held out a pinky in a scooping motion. She said she would have to wash her hands a finger at a time in my sink.



Although I always poopoo luxury, I find myself pleasantly surprised and acclimated to excess by the time I leave her house. Why chafe your knees on mediocre sheets when you can have the finest Tuscan linens. Why not bathe with the soap Napoleon had commissioned for Josephine. Except I am married to pigpen.