7 Reasons

Tag: Owls

  • 7 Reasons That I’ve Been Baffled By A Doormat

    7 Reasons That I’ve Been Baffled By A Doormat

    Okay, I’ve been really confused.  I’ve had a tricky problem that’s been plaguing me for the past two days that I think I’ve finally solved but it’s been quite a journey.  It all started with a new arrival*.  A doormat.  I bought it to go inside the front door in the 3’ x 3’ space that, if I were grand, I’d refer to as my entrance hall or vestibule.  As it is, I’ve really never referred to that space before, I just know it as the-area-behind-the-front-door or occasionally the-area-in-front-of-the-world.  Anyway, I digress.  Below these words and above some more is a picture of the doormat.  Here are seven reasons that it’s been baffling me.

     

    1.  Perspective.  Yesterday morning, I pulled the mat from its bag and strode to the front door.  I had blithely supposed that I would be able to place the doormat inside the door and walk away to do something else.  Something important.  Something interesting.  But as I went to place the mat on the floor I felt troubled.  The problem was that the mat has a picture on it.  That means that it’s no mere utilitarian home accessory.  It’s also art.  Not high-art, admittedly.  It’s not Da Vinci’s Mona Lisa or Klimpt’s Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer I, which is fortunate as they probably wouldn’t fare well hanging on the floor in my hallway, and I would probably soon tire of the tourists.  But it’s still art.  And art’s there to be contemplated and enjoyed, to enhance an environment and provide stimulation for those that inhabit the same space.  Essentially, in this case, I realised that when I looked at the owls, I wanted them not to be upside down.

    2.  But That Would Be Unwelcoming.  Surely the doormat should face outward.  To welcome guests.  To make a nice first impression.  What would we be saying by having the mat face inward?  That we’re selfish people that want the owls the right way up for ourselves and care not a whit for the feelings of others?  That would make us appear distinctly unwelcoming.  You can’t greet people with upside down owls.  It’s a question of doormat etiquette.  Doormatiquette.

    3.  But!  Does an outward facing mat welcome guests though?  Because when the guests come into the house – and they sometimes do, we’re sociable people that don’t bite – the owls would be upside down.  So then everybody would be looking at the owls the wrong way up.  Both guests and residents.  No one would win.

    4.  Furthermore!  Having an outward facing mat would send another message.  An unwelcoming message.  And that message is Stop!  Come no further.  Being in the house is an anti climax.  Beyond this point, the owls are upside down.  If you stay outside it’s better.  These people have put this thing here to make sure you stand on their doorstep and come no further.  I was beginning to realise that placing a doormat was more complicated than I thought it was going to be.

    5.  A Compromise?  Okay, so there was no way I could have the doormat facing inward or outward.  But could I compromise?  Turning the doormat sideways would seem to be a fair thing to do, but wait?!  A sideways doormat!  That would be weird.  If someone opened a front door to you and their doormat was sideways you’d think they were barmy.  You’d assume that they were a gibbering harebrain that spent their nights pointing at the moon and their days pointing at the space the moon had been the previous night, pausing only to laugh hysterically at bicycles.  Have you ever been in the house of anyone with a sideways doormat?  No.  Of course not.  People that have been in the houses of people with sideways doormats are probably still there tied down in the cellar or imprisoned in the shed, being forced to eat balloons and comb a jelly or some equally bizarre and hideous fate.  The sideways doormat compromise was out.

    6.  Brainstorming.  By this point, I realised I needed help**.  I decided to ask Twitter.  Carrying the doormat over to the computer, I tweeted my dilemma.  With help from @kittyQ, @davidofyork, @kateypotatey, @jonesyinc1 and @amazingzeesh (all lovely tweeters) I brainstormed the problem.  It was difficult and there was no real consensus.  The nearest we got to a solution was @kateypotatey’s idea of hanging the doormat on the wall and putting it down facing outward only when anyone knocked on the door.  But that raised a further problem.  What would we do when the guests came in?  Wait for them to cross the threshold and then hang the doormat up on the wall?  That would make us look odd.  Not sideways-doormat-odd, but still a teensy bit weird.  And if we didn’t hang it back on the wall we’d all be looking at upside down owls again.  Unless I turned the mat to face inward after they came in but that would appear strange too.  And what if more guests arrived while existing guests were there?   What if we had a party?  Should my wife be responsible for making drinks and handing out nibbles while I take charge of rotating the doormat and greeting people?  That doesn’t sound like much of a party to me.  Or a picnic.  The capacity for it all to go horribly wrong would be endless.  I felt dizzy just thinking about it.  I decided to sleep on it.

    7.  And Sleep Helped.  This morning, when I woke I had an idea.  I walked downstairs and turned the doormat upside down.  The doormat would be ostensibly plain and no one would get to see the owls, but I would be able to peek at them whenever I liked.  We’d have secret owls.  But that felt ungenerous and it bothered me for most of the day.  This evening, however, I did solve the problem.  What I need to do is position the mat picture side up, facing outwards, and to convince myself and everyone that comes into the house that it’s a picture of three owls standing on their heads.  I also need to make them forget that I’ve convinced them of that when they leave.  What I need is a live-in hypnotist.  Anyone know one?

    *Cue angry mob.

    **And I sense that many people might agree with me.

  • 7 Reasons That I Won’t Be Sending My Christmas Cards Until Christmas Eve

    7 Reasons That I Won’t Be Sending My Christmas Cards Until Christmas Eve

    It’s almost Christmas and one of the aspects of the festival that I hate the most is writing Christmas cards.   But I’ve come up with a cunning plan for dealing with them.  This year, I won’t be sending any Christmas cards out until Christmas Eve.  Here are seven reasons why.

    A stack of envelopes with stamps affixed ready to be dispatched

    1.  Space.  When you’re buying your stamps or posting your cards, the post office on Christmas Eve is a far more convivial atmosphere than the post office on December 18th.  When I’m posting my cards tomorrow, I’m going to be alone, with just the post office staff wearing their Santa hats and antlers, and eating their mince pies, (which they’ll probably share with me).   And, instead of being stuck in a long mazy queue of grey people coughing, I’m going to have space to stretch my arms out and spin around.  And that’s what I’m going to do; just because I can.  And because it’s less cruel than swinging a cat.

    2.  Time.  Leaving the cards until the last minute will have other benefits too.  Had I written my cards early I’d have spent lots of time writing them out neatly, but I didn’t do that this year, and now that Christmas Eve is almost upon us, I’m doing the Christmas cards as a rush job.  So that’s a lot less time that I’ve spent writing cards: Time that I was able to use more productively.  I didn’t obviously, I spent it mulling things and playing Angry Birds. I also photoshopped a hat onto the statue of liberty.  But it’s still time saved.

    3.  Inclusivity.  It’s more inclusive if I send my cards on Christmas Eve.  After all, I’m notoriously forgetful, but I know who I’ve received a card from because there’s a bushel of them in the living room.  Or a gross.  Or a flock (I have no idea how quantities of cards are measured), so it’s easy enough for me to work out who’s sent them and reply.  So if you’ve sent me a card, you’ll get one in return:  And if you haven’t, then you won’t.  Obviously if anyone else is using the same system as me then that’s unfortunate, but if they are, that would benefit the…

    4.  Environment.  That the Christmas cards I’ve sent won’t be received until after Christmas is good for the planet.  Because no one sends out a Christmas card after Christmas, so people won’t send out any cards in reply to mine.  So there’ll be less wasted paper, and I’ll have less recycling to do in January.  Which is great, as the first recycling day of the New Year is usually like some sort of glass-themed labour of Hercules, but without Hercules and starring me instead.

    5.  Blame.  And no one even need know that their cards weren’t sent until Christmas Eve (unless they’re reading this.  Damn) because what’s the default opinion on the Royal Mail in this country?  It’s that they’re hapless and inefficient.  That’s not strictly true.  Most of the time, they’re dedicated people doing a fine, and quite thankless, job, but they’ll automatically get the blame for the tardy arrival of my cards anyway.  But that’s their problem and I don’t mind using it to my advantage.  After all, I’ve never been stupid enough to change my name to Consignia and they have.

    6.  How To Win Friends And Influence People.  When no card arrives before Christmas, friends, family and acquaintances will probably think “The bastard!  He hasn’t sent us a folded over piece of paper with a picture of a fat, bearded man on the front and some illegible scrawl within!  How could he do this to me?” But then, when the card turns up a few days after Christmas (“bloody post office”) they’ll feel loved and wanted again.  And they’ll feel bad for thinking ill of me, which they’ll probably compensate for by being even more well-disposed toward me than usual.  So if I keep doing this every Christmas, people will eventually feel so much affection for me that they will probably erect statues of me when I’m in my old age.  I could get canonized! I could become the next Princess Diana!*

    7.  Finances.  I won’t need to buy cards until the last minute, by which time I’ll know exactly how many I need.  So none will be wasted.  So I’ll be saving money.  That’s money that I can spend on other Christmas things like candles that get brought out once a year that nobody ever lights, or those owl baubles that my wife saw (because nothing says Christmas more than a rodent-terrorising bird of prey hanging from a tree).  By leaving the cards until the last moment, I’m going to be better off financially, and I’m going to benefit in many, many other ways too.  I’m a genius!  A mean genius.  I’m a meanius!

    *But my mother-in-law won’t be on the stamps.