Yesterday I might have been a little whiny about how the man pulled everything out that had been tucked away in closets and corners, so that my house could wear a thin veneer of cleanliness. Fairness dictates that I give him credit for having energy to burn today, and spending a great deal of it taking care of things that I might never have gotten to this winter. (Vacuuming the popcorn ceiling around the super-dusty ceiling fan that is twelve feet off the ground? Give this man--and his ladder--a medal. It looks brand new in here again.) Most of our furniture is still cattywampus, but we now have a dog who walks only on his front paws, dangling his posterior in the oddest way, and we need to have plenty of wide-open avenues around here so he can get to where he wants to be. We also had to block off access to the piano bar section of the house, while one of the fancy rugs dries. The man brought out the rinse-n-vac and everything today. That rug needed to be cleaned before it was put away, as it is the little red-headed dog's favorite spot to run to when he gets a pork hide chewie (commonly referred to as STFU Sticks in the Smith family lexicon).
I can't completely let up off the man, however. He is well known in our circles for being out and proud as a true dinosaur. He often says, when viewing advertising or the packaging claims on products in stores, "I am not part of this demographic." He's right. Almost nothing of the modern world is marketed towards grumpy curmudgeons who shop older than they actually are. The most obvious example of all of this is his phone. He loved to embarrass all of us women (his wife and daughters), every time he whipped out his 2006/7 Motorola Razr phone. He is one of the few people I know personally who really just wanted a phone to be a phone. I can't imagine. That is the last thing I want to do with mine. Talk on it? Are you crazy? I hate talking on a telephone, when typing is available. But the man just loved being the last guy east of the Mississippi who still used a Razr. He was determined to keep it until he left the country last year, since he wouldn't be using his own phone to call internationally if he could avoid it (he takes pride in being cheap sometimes too), and didn't need something brand new that would be obsolete by the time he returned. Barely a week left before his flight last year, and the old phone died for good. He had no choice but to get some sort of replacement, and he picked up a little burner that he mostly used as an alarm while overseas. This week, we finally dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the current decade. We spent a couple hours in the AT&T store, and damned if he didn't come out of there with a better phone than I have. (I did get mine right after he left, so it makes sense.) He was a little disappointed that no one makes a flip phone anymore, but I think he will come around once he gets used to what he's got now. We are all going to be grateful for his camera upgrade, those of us who have received texts and spent a good five minutes trying to figure out what exactly we were looking at. Three cheers for modernity!
I think, all things considered, I'm totally fine having my favorite Luddite home, even if it means I feel weird dancing between all the devices I play with every day when he's not around. I have just enough of a hipster complex to enjoy revisiting the world of hand-crafting, slow processes, and vintage everything. I don't live an ultra-modern life, and I have no intention of starting one now. In fact, from here, I expect the both of us to slow down even more. But I'm still glad he has a phone from this decade. Some things are that important to a new world family.
No comments:
Post a Comment