Can Cookie Please
My past two weeks have been taken up with volunteering at a family summer camp, about 12 hours from home. My cousins, currently out of town, offered to let me stay in their house for a few days as it is nearly halfway between the camp and my home in Denver. This is how I happened to go from sleeping in a 6 by 12 foot trailer with five sweaty girls to reclining alone in a mansion with two swimming pools and a vineyard.
Now, this is the sort of house that has a grand piano even though nobody plays.
It has always bothered me when people complain about houses with pianos and no piano players. I can think of a thousand other uses for a piano than whamming melodically along those ivory blacks and whites (Okay, one of those uses was “paperweight”…) But the fact is, the piano is a beautiful instrument. And as far as accessories are concerned, I can think of a lot of things that are more frivolous and expensive. At least homeowners are equipped if a piano player ever comes to dinner (which seems a whole lot more likely than another world war, and yet we have stores of military weaponry lined up “just in case”). Pianos also help in calling out those friends that exaggerate about everything- It is easy to convince someone who does not play an instrument that you do by prattling on in nonsensical musical jargon, but it is incredibly difficult to bullshit one’s way through Mozart’s first concerto. But then there is the argument that it seems wasteful to own and not use a piano, what with all the piano players out there who cannot afford their own instrument.
How will one person abstaining from owning a piano somehow get one in the hands of a starving artist? Purchasing a piano is only fuelling the music industry. I see it as ensuring that piano manufacturers stay in business long enough for the people who actually play to finally man up and buy their own baby Grand.
Anyhow, I use the unnecessary existence of the piano to illustrate the enormity and possibility of the house I am currently alone inside. And also, it seems, to foreshadow my ironic decision not to do anything about it. I can do anything I want, and what do I decide to do first?
Sit on the couch and eat all their food.
Now, it could be argued that they were only trying to be polite, but I decided to take the statement: “help yourself to anything in the fridge” to mean “please eat everything in the fridge.” Somewhere in this mad feeding frenzy there may lie a slight binge eating problem, but I see it as pretty inevitable. After all, what more could be expected from a child whose first words literally were, “can cookie please.”
To continue with the theme of wasted opportunities, my second mansion-indulgence so far has been watching Netflix. However, I have always found Netflix to be an extremely personal, intimate experience (this coming from someone who has never explored any of their adult content). I mean only that publicizing the Netflix “recently viewed” sections of the rich and famous would likely cause a huge scandal.Who wants people seeing all the fluff they watch when they are braindead at two in the morning? I don’t think Obama wants his fellow Democrats to know that he has seen all six seasons of Gossip Girl.
In this cynical spirit, I feel awkward watching anything (shamefully) interesting on my cousins’ Netflix account. Thus, I am stuck perusing their “recently viewed” section. This means watching the first three seasons of The Fresh Prince of Bel Air.
Admittedly, not a bad show. What really makes me laugh is how they stretch the plot and dialogue of a 24-minute episode to include a 5-minute flashback that certainly overstays its welcome. By the end, I forget that it was ever a flashback at all; I just have a super strong sense of dejavu. It reminds me of the watered-down orange juice at church, in that the writers clearly didn’t want to have to write any more material than was absolutely necessary.
I am not saying that they are lazy. This idea is inspired! What a time saver! Heck, it’s genius! In fact, I think I’ll take a page from the Fresh Prince Playbook any time I’m short ideas for a post. Instead of simply cutting it short, you can all bear with me as I ramble on anecdotally about something that happened to me three years ago.
This and more is what there is to look forward to, if you keep reading my blog! (Heck, I might even stop reading, if it were not for the calamity of spelling and grammatical errors that would surely result.)
Bye for now,