Somehow, this time, we ended up in a place where everything not only works, it’s more advanced than our ability to work it. There’s the aforementioned alarm system. There’s a sophisticated lawn-sprinkler system, although the lawn is dying because I can’t figure out how to turn the thing on. And there are so many specialized recessed lights — and each one has a dimmer (cool) — it’s like living in an art museum.
And I’m still not convinced the whole bruschetta imbroglio wasn’t the oven’s fault. Appliances are quirky. Maybe it did cook the first two pieces of bread slower than the second two.
I’m getting used to everything, though.
My upstairs home office is in the former bedroom of twin toddlers. The bottom half of its walls is painted with white stars floating on a dusky blue background. Atop this scene of an evening sky is a wide strip of wallpaper depicting, over and over again, a cow jumping over the moon.
At first, I thought I’d paint over it.
But I’ve come to like it. It gives me inspiration. It says to me, If a cow can jump over the moon, then I can figure out the alarm system.