Grout and Goldfish
By Wendy Wheatley I've always been a bit impulsive throughout my life. I credit my neuroticism to my childhood friend, Shawn, who taught me the thrills of ringing the neighbor's doorbell and then scampering for a hiding place in the shrubbery. That was at age 8. Now, I think Shawn is in prison. To each his own. Back to my impulsive nature that has graduated from ringing doorbells and has progressed into more life-moving resolutions - such as wearing white pants before Memorial Day. What's worse, is I'm not only impulsive - I'm compulsive. The deadly duo. I'm a creature of habit that likes sudden change. Go figure. My neurotic behaviors are adverse, yet partners in crime. If I resolve to do something - that's it. I am going to do it if it kills me - or something else. When my 2 year old daughter voiced the slightest interest in a goldfish - that was it. She was going to get a goldfish. Not that I give my children everything they seek, but man - a goldfish sounded like a fantastic idea! Suddenly, I was gripped by both impulsion - I packed the family in the car immediately and bought the fish - but also by compulsion. The store was out of fish and we drove around until we found a fish to buy. I would have driven across the state line to get a fish that night. And not only did we buy a fish, we bought the fishy mansion with all of it's toys. This $.99 fish was going to live in luxury, baby! The fish was dead in the morning. I told my daughter that "Zoe" the goldfish only came to visit for the evening and had to go home. Most people would sum up their losses at this point. I, however, am not that bright. Yes - I went out and bought another fish. Yes - it, too, was dead in the morning. Yes - I told my daughter that "Zoe" the goldfish had come to stay an extra night and had to finally go home - for good. And it still takes everything in me not to go out and buy another goldfish. I can't help it. My father, however, is an analytical planner. He has decided to remodel his kitchen. That was 6 months ago. He still has the same kitchen - sort of. There are 6 different shades of paint on his kitchen walls - this week. But you don't have a chance to look at the walls before you trip over the 15 different variations of tile that are stacked in disproportional mounds scattered like land mines. Then there's the grout. I have learned more about grout in the past 6 months that I care to. Grout is like Velveeta - everyone's heard of it, but you don't really know what's in it. If you go to visit my father, he'll show you every possible color combination that exists between the paint, the tile and the Velveeta and then outline your preferences on a pie chart and furnish you with a summarized report to take with you. Then he'll decide he doesn't like any of the 5,681 possible color schemes, scrap the entire project and start over. So imagine my father's reaction when I enlightened him of my latest impulsion. A little background is required here. My husband, 3 small children and I decided at the end of July to move from Seattle to Illinois where our family is. (We hadn't been invited to see the most recent tile/paint color designs and felt a little left out.) John and I decided in a matter of 2 weeks to quit our jobs, sell our house, give away most of our material possessions and move across the country. Usually we don't take this long to make our findings, but this was a substantial decision that we felt required considerable deliberation. And so we intended to approach purchasing a new home in a similar and cautious manner. We bought a home the first day we went house hunting. Just like that. And so, once again, we are homeowners. After the sellers accepted our offer, I immediately called my father to tell him the marvelous news. But he couldn't chit chat right then. I had caught him at a bad time. By the best stroke of luck, a stranded motorist had stopped in to use the phone and my father was able to showcase his new grout to the weary traveler. My father reassured me I would receive his findings in an updated reported sent by messenger in the morning.
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