Articles

I did not want a $14,000 lamp, but that's what I got. It all started with a session of aggressive dusting. I over-Swiffered the lamp hanging above my dining-room table, sending it swinging.

My husband and I have refinished the doors in our house three times in the past two years. The reason is out cat, Alley, who is nearsighted klutz: kind of a Mrs. Magoo with fur. But we embrace the many quirks of our rescued founding, from her need to sleep wrapped around my neck to her compete and total aversion to closed doors.

With my finely honed eye, I can eyeball the conter of a 14-ft living room wall with only an eight-inch margin of error. To me, hanging a picture is a two minute job as easy as falling off my diet. But I am married to an engineer who unequivocally rejects my eyeballing skills as substandard industry practice.

I thought only the word could incite fear and loathing in my neighbors. That word is fence, especially when used in the same sentence with share the cost. But I was wrong. I've found another, even more insidious word: theodolite.

Calling my first house a fixer-upper puts too nice a spin on it. It was a dump. Although structurally sound, the interior had suffered a thorough working over by Bad Taste Inc.