Carole has an challenging topic for this week.
Ten Threshholds I Cross Every Day.
- The usual: doors to bathroom, bedroom. No threshhold to get into kitchen or living room.
- Door to my office. I seem to spend an inordinate amount of time in here, especially given that I am retired. Email, reading blogs, creating stuff, dealing with my (many) volunteer activities. This is where it all happens.
- Door to laundry/sewing/craft room. That's where my stash lives. The beverage refrigerator happens to be in there, too.
- Does a virtual threshhold count? Because if it does, the threshhold to the wider world of the Internet is one I cross many times a day.
That's it. Those are the only ones I cross every day. There are many days when I do not leave the house. (Yay, retirement!) In the interests of making a reasonable list, I shall list a few others that I cross frequently. - The door into my car*, the vehicle that takes me to that other wider world, the one that some people call The Real World.
- The door into the local library. There are very few times I leave home that I don't make a stop at the library, either to pick up new books or drop off other books I have finished.
- The doors of the supermarket and WalMart. Sadly.
- The doors to a few of the local restaurants. But not the bars. For whatever reason, I almost never go into a bar.
- The door to the government center, although since losing the election I go in there far less often. Seems like I used to be in there several times a week; now, it's more like a couple times a month.
- That's it. Rural world = small world.
* I need to tell you a little story about my car. On Sunday when I met up with my friend Jeff, who had volunteered to ride with me in the parade, the first thing he said after hello was Shall we run your car through the car wash?
Me: Srsly?
Him: [nods].
Me: Srsly?
Him: Sure. I'll pay.
Me: You don't have to do that. But srsly?
And thus my car was clean for the parade.
Although I understood his concern -- presenting a nice sparkly image for our local group -- I didn't really see any need to wash the light-colored dust off my silver car, especially since everything behind the windshield would be covered by signs. It is immaterial to me whether the outside of my car is clean or covered with dust from the gravel road I must drive on. In the winter Smokey runs my car through the carwash over my vigorous-but-futile protests (the locks always freeze!) and occasionally during the rest of the year (but why?). I dislike having any clutter in my car, but the outside? Who cares?
I am just a car slob.
