Strongly Worded

Seven Things That Are Not as Fun as They Seem

As I contemplate my last days at Houseware Heaven, and make a shopping list of things that I will get at 30% off, it occurs to me that selling housewares falls into the category of Things That Are Not as Fun as They Seem.

While sitting outside HH this weekend, I thought a bit about other items of this ilk.

1) Outdoor Folk Festivals. While no fiber of my being is outdoorsy, I very enthusiastically agreed to see my beloved Dar Williams perform at the Newport Folk Festival two years ago. I envisioned lounging alongside the water, and partaking in great music while eating vegetarian snacks. In fact, the whole day was long and hot (really, really hot). There was all this corporate sponsorship (this year, horribly, the main sponsor was Dunkin' Donuts). The snacks, while vegetarian, were expensive. There was no option of actually getting near the water. And Dar didn’t go on until the evening, after we had been sitting and waiting for approximately eight hours among liberal-but-sweaty fans. And there were some serious sound issues that compromised her brilliance.

2) Jamaica. I planned a trip to Jamaica with N., one of my best friends. We decided to forsake all-inclusive resorts and “get to know the culture” at a “locally-owned” hotel. The hotel did not meet expectations. They played reggae versions of “Three Blind Mice” and Celine Dion on a loop in the lobby. We couldn’t go anywhere without being hassled. We learned that Jamaica is second only to Haiti in its violent crime rate. And we realized that, as two non-pot-smoking, non- beach-loving, people, we had erred seriously in our choice of a vacation destination.

3) Decorating the common space of a nursing home (former work project). I had a $6,000 budget and was told to “go to town” in finding artwork, floor-covering, and furniture that would be suitably durable (my organization would reap the difference between the budget and the actual spending). As a huge fan of Trading Spaces and Design on a Dime, and an aspiring interior decorator, I thought this would be a dream project. In fact, it was horrible and stressful. I was paralyzed by indecision and stinginess. I agonized over the $60 fake plants vs. the $45 fake plants and ultimately bought neither. I looked woefully at Pier 1’s lamps. Table lamp? Floor lamp? How much ambient lighting? I bought three different rugs and returned two of them. And I would never, ever have purchased the main furnishings without my faithful friend D., who took charge of the situation at the furniture store. In a few hours we had $3,000 worth of merchandise and had earned the respect of Carolyn the sales associate.

4) Camp counseling. In college, I wanted to “give back” to the camp I attended as a teenager. I had visions of empowering the campers, having long trusting talks about sexuality and the virtues of women’s colleges. Instead, I lived in squalor with a bunch of whiny girls who eschewed me in favor of my cooler co-counselor who wore makeup and cool clothes. They were not interested in learning about the Man, rather, in procuring hickeys from the “men” in the boys’ cabins.

5) Dating a doctor. We’ve already been over this. Exhaustively.

6) Classes at the local Center for Adult Education. Somehow I always expect to have an illuminating experience and come away with new friends and perhaps a romantic prospect. To this end, I have taken “Masterworks of Cinema”, “Spanish Film and Conversation”, “Introduction to Classical Music”, “Financial Planning”, “Fundamentals of Graphic Design”, and a GRE preparation class. While some of the classes were somewhat illuminating, I came away with a total of zero (0) friends and zero (0) romantic prospects. For some reason, men don’t take adult education classes. The ones that do are “unique”, and I mean that charitably.

7) Cross-country skiing. It’s essentially walking, in the cold, with more effort.

Posted by Dori at 11:25 PM