MY PECULIAR PATTERN

            I've noticed in recent years that I have developed a somewhat peculiar pattern: every time that someone who's very important to me dies, I build an addition on my house. When I lost my father, I built the 1993 addition. When I lost my mother, I built the 2003 addition. And when my husband died, I built the 2020 addition. I suppose that it gives me something to occupy my mind, something else to obsess about, besides my devastating loss. I've lived in the same house for my entire life. But it just keeps growing larger as my family shrinks.

            Due to this possibly strange habit, I've had occasion to pay attention to the abysmal developments (I certainly won't say progress) regarding linoleum. In the 1950s and 1960s, we could get all manner of lovely colors and color combinations. When I added the 1993 addition, there was one, and only one, pretty linoleum that actually included pastel colors. Well, fortunately, I only needed one, so I immediately chose it. With the 2003 addition, I did not need linoleum; I only needed carpet for the types of rooms that I was adding. But for the 2020 addition, I found that the "selection" of linoleum consisted only of ugly, uglier, and ugliest. Shades of grays and browns were the only available options. Brown: the color of mud and crud, and gray: the color of a dreary day. "But they are what sells," I was told. I retorted, "Well maybe they sell because that is all that you offer: one cannot very well buy what is not offered." My kneejerk reaction was that people today (actually, the last several decades) have a taste for s**t. But I've rethought that. I am not convinced that people today really like ugliness and depressing non-colors, but rather that they've been sold a bill of goods by the influencers and the manufacturers. Maybe today's "sheeple" don't love ugly colors; maybe they've just been brainwashed into believing that it's "sophisticated" to like dreary, dismal hues, and "immature" to like colors that are truly pretty. (And perhaps all of this has contributed to the galloping increase in numbers of people suffering from depression).

            Anyway, what did I choose for the 2020 addition's non-carpeted rooms? No linoleum. Tile! In a mix of pretty, vibrant, cheerful colors!

            And when a lady from the security system company came and saw my kitchen, with its pink and light blue painted walls, floor-tiles, countertops, tablecloth, and curtains, and its all-white refrigerator, stove, microwave, dishwasher, and sink, she said, "What a delightful, strikingly refreshing look! I go into a lot of houses, and all of their kitchens are...." She trailed off helplessly, so I guessed, "As dull and colorless as a black-and-white photograph?" She replied, "Well, that, too. But I was going to say, they're all the same. No creativity, no innovation, no variety, just cookie-cutter carbon-copies of each other." I said, "How very boring." She answered, "Indeed." Then, she went on, "And how spacious your kitchen is! Lovely wide-open space! Most kitchens today look so crowded, with an 'island' in the middle." I observed her sardonically, and replied, "We used to have an 'island' of sorts: it was called a dishwasher!" At her startled expression, I explained, "When dishwashers were first invented, they were not built-in; they were 'portable,' which meant that they were on wheels, and could be shoved around, to connect to the sink, or to be pushed out of the way of the sink. What a nuisance to always have to step around it! Later, when built-in dishwashers were invented, I was thoroughly glad to have the obstacle removed. No way was I going to deliberately install a new obstacle!" She marveled aloud, impressed. I added, "And what is this nonsense of hiding the trash these days? As a guest in someone's home, I would much rather surreptitiously drop a used tissue into a welcoming wastebasket, than be embarrassed by having to make a production of asking where it is." She looked around, and instantly spotted my very pretty and available wastebaskets, one against the wall at each end of the kitchen, and remarked, "And they're color-coordinated, too! How lovely! But I suppose, playing devil's advocate, that people today want to keep messy kitchen garbage out of sight." I made a face, and said, "That's why messy kitchen garbage goes immediately out to the garbage can, in the garage where it belongs. I'm certainly not going to keep it in here, to potentially smell." She emphatically agreed. I chuckled and said, "Though I had one repairman who just couldn't seem to get the obvious. So engrained was he with modern absurdity, that on two different occasions, months apart, he began rooting through my kitchen cabinets. Of course, I said, 'Stop that! What are you doing?!' He said, 'Looking for the trash.' I pointed at both wastebaskets, and instructed, 'Conveniently located at both ends of the kitchen, right out in plain sight! To keep people from doing what you just did!' Going through my personal cabinets! Of all the nerve!" The security system lady smiled widely, and said, "I like the way you think." I smiled back, and said, "I think like someone from the 1950s and early 1960s, because I am."