Actions or Goals: More Housemate Complaints

Stealing from AI summary slop for a moment...

Action-oriented refers to being willing or likely to take practical action to deal with a problem or situation. It involves focusing on taking action rather than just planning or deliberating.

Being goal-oriented means focusing on reaching or completing specific tasks to achieve a planned outcome. People who are goal-oriented are driven and motivated by purpose, often referred to as being task-driven or results-driven.

I put these definitions here to acknowledge and immediately discard them. I am here to complain about my housemates. For the purpose of this post we're talking about actions being "doing a thing" and goals being "accomplishing a task." You'll get it in a second.

So, yes, housemates. I'm so fucking tired of the two of these ~40 year old men not understanding that there is a goal at the end of every action. For a simple example, take turning on the light. The goal is to, say, illuminate a room. The action one might take is flipping a light switch. For the both of them that's where it ends. Some synapse says "I've flipped the switch" and they're done. They've checked out. They have completed the action they wanted to do - it doesn't matter if the goal was accomplished. "What if the light bulb has burned out?" or "what if the breaker has popped?" might come to your mind, but it does not enter theirs; they have flipped the switch and therefore are done. They'll sit in the dark - metaphorically appropriate to this post - happy in the knowledge that they've performed an action.

"Certainly you're not getting angry about light switches!" you might think, and you're correct. I don't know how best to lay out my annoyances, so here's three.

• "Feed the cat" = put cat food on a plate. Don't check if the cat actually eats it. Don't smash the pâté like the cat likes. Merely placing the food on the plate is the action necessary. This certainly does not also include picking up the dish afterward so ants don't crawl into the house.
• "Wash the dishes" = rub a sponge on the dishes. Don't check if the dishes are actually clean. God forbid we have clean dishes. No, just move a sponge around a bit. This certainly doesn't include making sure the drying rack is clean - no, put the "clean" dishes on a moldy drying surface. If they cleaned the drying rack it might cut two minutes out of the time they could be watching wrestling reruns.
• "Clean the living room" = push the vacuum around. Don't move any furniture. Don't tidy anything. CERTAINLY don't dust anything. Just push the vacuum for five minutes. Oh, and don't worry about emptying the vacuum container - why would you care about maintaining your tools? Weird that the last two vacuums have burnt out (not that they noticed, of course, they have both pushed vacuums around that weren't actually running).

I really don't know what to do here. I've laid out three scenarios, but it's everything. I've mentioned things where they underdo it, but it's also shit like overdoing it on soap and laundry. WON'T uses a bar of soap every week. He sits in a chair 16 hours a day and screams at the TV - he's not a coal miner or anything that might get him actually dirty. But the action of taking a shower includes using a significant portion of a bar of soap. CAN'T uses a month's worth of detergent in every load of laundry. I bought a five-year supply thinking I'd save money buying in bulk. Five months later and we've run out. He's also not a coal miner - the laundry he's doing is moderately sweaty clothes. But he knows the action of doing laundry includes adding powder, so he just dumps it in. Honestly, I'm not sure how he hasn't developed rashes from all that detergent on his skin.

This is all without mentioning that these two ~40 year old men still work on the "I didn't use the last of it" principle as if they were children. Toilet paper, towels, tissues, coffee, creamer, milk, and more. That's a separate complaint - a wonderful life hack where they don't have to contribute to the house if they didn't physically use the last bit of a thing. It just "magically" appears because - this is crazy - I want to wipe my ass when I'm done taking a shit.

Again, I'm not really sure how to end this post. I suppose I'll indulge in their logic - I've engaged the action of typing up a post, but it's unlikely I've accomplished the goal of putting something interesting up on the blog. Sorry?

Mortgage Mumbling

So, it's 1am and I'm sitting in a bar.

A couple firetrucks zip by, full lights & sirens.

The handful of folks at the bar meet eyes and silently acknowledge "that's a bit weird."

We all go back to our drinks.

A few minutes later, a guy walks in and sits next to me. I greet him politely, but he's a bit grumpy. Apparently his apartment building is on fire. Naturally curious, I ask which one. Turns out he lives in the building I used to live in, on the floor I used to live on, two doors down from my old apartment.

Well, it's fuckin' one in the morning and I'm lubricated, so this turns into a whole nostalgia conversation.

We chat about how garbage the management is, about the changes I've seen, and all that dumb stuff.

Turns out he's saving up to buy a house - oh shit, I know something about that!

He makes a comment about how "once I've saved up enough for a down payment, the amount needed for a down payment has gone up."

I'm like "you only need to put down 5%; 3.5% if you sit through a homebuying course."

It was more of a conversation than this, of course. The conversation, however, gets him agitated. Apparently I'm mansplaining how to buy a house. Maybe I am - I'm actively closing a bar and he's here sober, apartment on fire.

The conversation still nibbles at my brain all these months later. You see, his complaint was about reaching the brass ring - something always slightly out of reach. My contention was that it was well within reach. He wanted to put 20% down and make minimum monthly payments. As mentioned, every time he hit 20% on a place (over several years) he was priced out. The solution is to put down a lower amount and then - crazy idea - he owns a house. Once you have it you can refinance with equity counting toward the mortgage (after a few years). Or you can pay extra on the principal. Or you can pocket the difference between rent and mortgage and just fuckin' fly to Fiji.

I thought it was a no-brainer. If the complaint is "I don't own a house" then the solution is "buy a house" - especially if you already have enough saved up for a lower percentage down payment! What do I know though?

I don't know what happened with the guy. I do know the apartment building didn't burn down. Maybe he's still paying rent on a shitty apartment instead of paying a mortgage on a shitty house.

I'll be here doling out drunk advice all the same.

Idiomatic Expansion

 I was listening to NPR today and Mara Liasson said that the Trump administration was "pushing the edge of the envelope." I was struck by this as I hadn't heard this particular mash up prior. This reminded me of two other examples of idioms that have expanded and I merely wanted to muse for a moment on the idea.

To be clear, the idiom in question is "pushing the envelope" and somehow "the edge" got added (pushing one over the edge? approaching the edge? razor's edge? cutting edge? leading edge?). Again, I'd never heard this particular mash up before, but it makes enough sense how it came about. I'm a little sensitive to idiomatic expansion because in high school I was called out for saying "on top of the ball" instead of "on the ball" or "on top of things." I don't know why I mashed it up, but I did, and now I think about it more than I should. So, yes, "pushing the edge of the envelope" set me on edge, if you will.

Sometime between these two events (high school and literally today) I came across David Mitchell's rant on "holding down the fort" which is the expanded idiom I hear the most. To summarize his piece - one should "hold things down" or "hold the fort", but to "hold down the fort" makes it sound like the fort is going to float away should you fail in your duty. It's stuck with me and I try to avoid the mash up, though I've heard someone else say it as recently as Saturday (I was left alone on a shift and asked to "hold down the fort").

Where am I going with this? Nowhere. I was thinking about it and wanted to type a few words in a row to get the thought out of my head. Hopefully I haven't got this idée fixe stuck in your head.

(I think that fails as an expanded idiom, but whatever.)

Spring Ahead

 [Author's Note: they can't all be winners]

Art by Will

Pen springs. Watch springs. Leaf springs. Twisty bits of metal that make the world run. Now I was running, delivering amusing automata to good boys and girls. Those springs, however, had me all twisted up.

You'd think making a spring would be easy. Shape some metal the way you'd like an presto! But no, there's heating and cooling and the selection of alloys and all that sort of stuff. You have to consider how many times the spring will need to expand or contract. You have to consider how far it should move. In short, it's complicated.

Chasing Waterfalls

 The inclined plane is a simple machine that has been in use since prehistoric times. Used as a machine it allows for motion from one plane to be transferred to another plane with mechanical advantage - that is, for example, to push a vehicle up a ramp (pushing horizontally makes the object move vertically), to split wood (chopping “down” makes the wood split “sideways”), or convert rotational motion to longitudinal motion (a screw twisting into wood or a propeller propelling a ship through water) with less effort than simply lifting, tearing, or pushing. This is all to say that the inclined plane is ubiquitous - I suspect there’s one within eyesight of wherever you’re reading this.

When we think of machines, we often think of humans doing work. Work, however, can be done by gravity. Think of a marble at the top of a ramp. Gravity pulls the marble “down” and the inclined plane transfers that motion “sideways” - instead of ending up directly beneath where it started, the marble will end up somewhere else horizontally (assuming the ramp is not also a helix).

This is all to say this is a simple concept. A ubiquitous concept. A prehistoric concept. Yet, it’s a concept that seems to escape people all around the world. Especially people who have to deal with water.

I am going to blow your mind: water generally flows downhill. Crazy, right? Obviously I’m being sarcastic, as you certainly already know this. You know who doesn’t know this? Bathroom contractors, the streets department, and my housemates.

Shark?

Art by Kaitlin

"Are you a shark or are you just labeled 'shark'?" I asked.

"What are we if not a collection of labels?" the shark rejoined.

"Surely there's a truth though - are you a shark?"

"No, I'm just a drawing."

"What?"

"I'm merely a few squiggles with, apparently, a pyramid on top and the word 'shark' written on my body."

What are you even talking about?" You're a fish of some sort.

"Big words for a stick figure!"

Are you Smarter than my Housemates?

Happy (almost) New Year! In the spirit of "out with the old and in with the new" here's a rant.

A palate-cleanser. Feel free to look at this when you're done.

I am not the best housemate. I have clutter. I sometimes leave dishes in the sink overnight. I'm sure there are a dozen other things that would drive another housemate insane - including my complaining about the shit that they do. But here's the thing: I am capable of change.

Let me introduce you to my housemates: CAN'T and WON'T. They're both stuck in some pre-pubescent developmental stage where one can not learn new things and one chooses not to learn new things. I'm not sure which is worse. I'm very tired of looking after them. So tired, in fact, I've stopped doing things in my house. We need a new faucet, but I know if I install one it'll be broken in a week. I've had broken lights in the kitchen, two bedrooms, and the basement for years because one of them doesn't know the difference between a pull-chain and a lawnmower pull-start. There's a gas clothes dryer in the basement waiting to be hooked up, but I know - I know- the second I hook it up one of the two is going to burn my house down.

What can I do? Well, rant about it for a bit. With apologies for pictures of my dirty house - I simply cannot clean up after three grown men (including myself).

Become The Snail

Art by Griff

 “Wherever you go, there you are,” said the nomad. I half raised my ale in salute, appreciating the words if not absorbing them.

“To being there.” I added after a moment of performed reflection.

The nomad nodded, but I felt he wanted more. We sat for a second.

“Who are you?” He asked.

Shoreline

Art by Jen

 Shoreline.

A fractal meeting place.

Infinite collisions on the coast.

Water meeting rocks making sand.

Algae floating and sinking and, maybe, in a million, transforming.

I watched a beached boat rock back and forth as the water massaged it. I felt like an interloper - someone in the sitting room of a hospice facility. This boat had been born, lived its life, and now Sat here rotting. I had never experienced it in its halcyon days. I had never even seen it float. I knew it only as the boat on the beach. The rotting boat on the beach. It would eventually rot completely or be taken away to whatever dump they put boats in.

There Wolf?

Art by Jered

 "Yes, I'm aware of the problem," I said into the phone. "And no, Mister Mayor, I don't have a solution."

I was met with a curse and a dead line - he'd hung up on me.

"So much for that," I muttered to myself. I don't know why I'm supposed to have the answers to the recent killing spree, but I kept getting the calls. It seemed to me this was more of a job for the sheriff or someone more senior in government. Why involve a lowly lumberjack like myself was beyond me, but I wasn't a lumberjack because of my brains.

The killings had shaken the village. They were gristly affairs - either the result of a wild animal or a wild man masquerading as such. The first death - the killing of a town drunk - had been excused as a man who'd stumbled into trouble. The second was an unfortunate coincidence - a farmer who'd probably been protecting his animals from an unknown assailant. It was the third killing, however, that had roused the community to action. Little Suzie had just turned ten the week before. Her body - or what was left of it - had been found by her seven year old brother.