Thursday, October 16, 2014

Growing Up is Hard to Do, and Different Toilets

Maybe this topic is better suited to a Judy Blume book than the blog of a 26-year-old, but it's true: growing up is hard to do.

Our new house! Photo by Victoria Rice.

Sometimes being an adult is fun, like when I get to buy a new washer and dryer for my new house, when I remember that I haven't done homework for three years, or when I eat ice cream without asking my mother (most nights). But sometimes it's super lame, like when I angry-cry while on the phone with the mortgage company because our agent told me I could save some major $$$ ... but turns out she didn't know what she was talking about and her manager brick-walled all my indignation with talk of regulations and profitability. Psh! I hate dealing with that kind of thing. I hate talking on the phone. I hate rules about rate locking and floating and whatever else you can do to a rate (beat it up?). I had to reread this post to feel better about myself. I also had some Häagen-Dazs strawberry ice cream (without asking), but my allergies are pretty awful right now so I could hardly taste it. Then I remembered that the perfect eye roll emoji doesn't exist and I spiraled even deeper into my first-world problem-fueled afternoon depression vortex.

On the happier topic of our new house: I love it. The major characteristics of the house are wonderful (full of natural light, way more space, great neighborhood), but I'm also delighted by a bunch of small things. Like how our new fridge has an ice dispenser (hallmark of the super rich, according to my six-year-old mind), the blinds aren't the cheapy-cheapy kind that my kids can easily leave bite marks on (because aluminum mini blinds are so tasty), and my closet has a chandelier that makes me feel like a Kardashian ... in a good way, if such a way exists.

So dazzling my phone camera couldn't even focus.

As with moving to any new home, however, there are things to get used to. I don't have the muscle memory for the location of the light switches established yet, so there's been a lot of groping in the dark and fretting about scuffing the flat paint next to the switch plates with my massive fake diamond ring. Graham loves his new room during the day, but at night the unfamiliar house noises freak him out and he insists there's a "big man" in the house (which then creeps me out when I consider the remote possibility that he might actually be seeing some ghostly apparition--perhaps the disturbed soul of a would-be homeowner who died from complications related to the mortgage process?).

Then there are the toilets. They aren't bad toilets ... they're just different toilets. It's like when you went over to your best friend's house and had chicken divan for dinner. He mom's version had all the same ingredients, but it just wasn't the same as your mom's. This is exactly the same kind of thing, but with toilets bowls instead of broccoli.

I started to wonder how people choose which toilets to buy. Sure, you can probably measure your legs to optimize toilet height, but what about the feel of the commode (what our realtor calls toilets)? Is there a private showroom down a secluded aisle of Home Depot where you can try out different models (pants on, of course)? Do you need to make an appointment? If you really wanted an accurate test drive before purchasing, maybe the restroom of the store could have a different option in each stall.

Did you know that Amazon sells toilets? Check out this great video about the American Standard Champion-4 Right Height One-Piece Elongated model.

Will you ever think of miso the same way again? The disembodied doll heads were my favorite.

Come visit me in my new house. Try out my toilet and tell me what you think. Also, I'm thinking of this rug in the powder room (I love/hate calling the guest bathroom this).

I know bison are really popular with hipsters right now, but I want you to know that my love for bison is not just a sign that my animal preferences are so on trend. I have legitimately loved bison for decades, probably dating back to my first family camping trip to Yellowstone (mid 90s). I could write a whole post about why bison are the best, and I probably will one day. I also liked Sia way before everyone was fangirling over Chandelier. These are the only two things I can claim to have liked before everyone else. I am otherwise the complete opposite of a trendsetter (a tacky-spiker?), except for that time in third grade that the new girl decided to copy me and also do her animal report on opossums (which really irritated me and killed our budding friendship. I'm okay if you like bison, too, though!).

I'm really excited to decorate the powder room. I want to paint it a funky color (right now it's beige--bo-ring) and put a cute little sign next to the sink that says "Wash your hands or die." I'll leave the cause of death up to the reader's imagination. Am I talking about ebola or my own germophobia-fueled homicidal tendencies? They won't know. I like to keep it interesting when people come over. So come over.