Monday, January 27, 2014

The Mysterious Case of the Ill-Placement

The peephole on my front/back door is easily six inches higher than my tiptoe height. I am 5'5" and my husband Caleb is 5'7"; neither of us, nor obviously the children, can utilize this peephole.

I say "front/back" because the arrangement of our townhome is such that the door that opens into the living room is on the other side of the building from the parking lot; therefore, when visitors drive to our house, they park and then knock on the nearest door that says "17." That door? Our back door.

The door leads immediately into our kitchen. We have clunky white tiles that slope downward from west to east; the color choice was not ideal for masking daily dust or how the kids spill. I am not as much of a clean freak as my husband would prefer, but I wish I were every time I open the front/back door for an unexpected visitor.

When there is a knock at the door, I open it as a show of faith.

This story has no real purpose. I just wanted to point out that our contractor must have been really tall.

No comments:

Post a Comment