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The Living Without Series

This is a series of posts that I wrote back in 2006 on living with less stuff. Check them out: liv011Living #2liv031liv04

Coal Creek Farm on Facebook

The Chicken Doctor


The Architect


I just don’t notice it.

I’ve lived with it so long I just don’t notice it anymore. What am I talking about? Oh, let’s make a list; I love a list.

1. The strange mole that protrudes through the sleeve of my tight t-shirts on my right deltoid. My kids like to pick at it to give me the heebie-jeebies.

2. The absence of a knob on my washing machine. This always puzzles visitors when they want to do a quick load of wash before they pack up to leave. Where’s the knob? How do you start the washer? It takes a magic touch and only I have it.

3. The eight pane old window sitting on the floor by the piano. What’s it for? Where did it come from? Will I ever do anything with it? Why did I buy it?

4. My fungus toe. I only notice it when I’m not wearing polish or it catches on my shoe or I cut too much of the nail off or I have to sheepishly admit to a pedicurist that… I have a fungus toe.

5. The absence of a handle, drawers, vent panel and ice-maker for my refrigerator or the presence of a constant puddle of water coming from under it or the duct tape holding the shelves together. Did I mention the rust spots on the front? No? Cuz, I hardly notice them and with the description I just gave, I’m wondering if anyone would even recognized this appliance as a refrigerator at all????

6. My childhood furniture. I think I’ve mentioned it before. It’s everywhere in my house. In my daughter’s room, the boys’ room and the basement. I can proudly say it’s not in my room anymore. All the knobs are falling off and migrating to strange places in the house like, my bathroom and the toy baskets and the coin slot storage thingy of the van and my purse.

7. My husband. No just kidding. But, I’ve lived with him for a long time and I didn’t notice when his auburn hair turned so dark that people began to question where my son got his red hair.

8. The Playboy Magazine on my office shelf. It’s in Braille. That’s right; it’s the actual magazine with no pictures, just bumps. It’s the only Playboy that a man can read and honestly say, “I got it for the great articles!” It’s gotta be some sort of collector’s item by now.

9. The llama in my backyard. Well, it’s actually behind a fence in my backyard and belongs to my neighbor. But, isn’t it strange to think that I look out my window and see a llama and don’t think anything of it? I also don’t freak out if he sucks on my finger, sniffs my hair, smells my breath or nibbles on my clothing. We have an understanding, the llama and I, he gets to sniff and taste me and I, in turn, never try to pet him, ever. It’s a very one sided relationship and that’s the way he prefers it and I’m okay being used as a sensory post for a furry long necked animal.

Now, that I’ve stopped to think about these things they’re going to bother me until I do something about them. Except the llama, I can’t really make him stop being a llama and the mole, it’s just part of my arm and always will be unless it starts sprouting whiskers and talking, then I’ll slice it off with a razor, geeehish.

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