FINALLY. Take a look to the right. In the interest of building a better blog, we now have Google providing insta-translation in 45 different languages. Croatian, Filipino, all kinds of things. Hebrew, Kay! Yiddish!
I’m curious to hear from anyone who’s multilingual: just how peculiar does all this sound when translated by a computer? (As opposed to just plain old English peculiar, I mean.)
So go ahead: one world, y’all! I mean, it’s a Google world. I can’t wait til Google will knit my socks for me. Any day now, any day.
I am buzzing mightily right this minute on the drywall fumes that are wafting through the bedroom, now that the project I have stalled on for eight years is now officially underway. I am getting a door to my bathroom. What moron would design a bathroom with two entries and zero doors? Is there a more powerful way to induce chronic insecurity and bath anxiety? No peace, people.
You may be wondering how I could survive in a bathroom with no door, for eight years. It’s such a good question, and the answer is that I quickly figured out the most secret part of the bathroom, the part where nobody could see my reflection in the mirror over the sink. I tended to beeline for that zone the way an iguana heads for the hot rock. Another good strategy was to wander the house for ten minutes, dropping hints like, “Oh, I’m thinking about a shower,” or “Hey everybody, if you all could stay over toward this side of the house, I might even be using that bathroom. Got it?”
It was while on a trip to Washington that I realized that my bathroom has the exact doorless configuration of the women’s bathroom at Reagan National Airport. In one door, out the other–so fast, so sanitary. But most days I don’t really have six hundred people an hour coming through my bathroom.
I don’t know who designed this thing–and he or she is damn lucky I don’t, because I’d be submitting that name to the Disciplinary Board of Bathroom-Making People. I don’t care how meandering your bathroom is, how many arty-type fancypants angles you put in a bathroom. If it doesn’t have a door, it isn’t a bathroom. It’s a conference room. It’s a lobby.
Enough whining. I’m just excited, that’s all. Gary the door man is fixing things up, and he’s already hung the most beautiful door I have ever seen. It’s so OPAQUE. I can’t even imagine what is going to happen when I turn the lock on that doorknob. I can’t believe this is actually happening. It’s like Santy Claus is in there with a nail gun.
PS Hubbo would like the record to reflect that there are other bathrooms in the house that have always had doors.