Yesterday the Esteemed One and I discussed the possibility of a condo rather than another house whenever we move north of GR. On one hand, he doesn't like the idea of shoveling snow and mowing and all the yard work. On the other, neither of us likes the idea of hearing it when our neighbor flushes a toilet. My GRCC colleague Ellen S. lives in a condo, and I honestly felt that it was just like an apartment when I visited her. It was tiny, "efficient," and closed-in. I love to sit on my back deck and swing in my porch swing. I don't like feeling like neighbors are in my face. I also worry about fires. We can control whether we practice fire safety in our own home, but we can't control other people. (We learned that while living in a duplex in Baton Rouge when dingbat neighbors tried to put out a grease fire with flour!)
It sounds like I'm feeling anti-condo. To be honest, I have no idea what to expect. So if we can find some Open Houses for condos in the area north of town on Sunday, we'll look at some. After all, we might find something ideal for the two of us, assuming we can ever agree to share an office. (He's afraid my habitual mess will take over his nice, neat space.)
I'm eager to move into my office at Ferris, if I ever get assigned one. I know where it's likely to be (near the bathroom, thank goodness!), but not which one. It won't much matter, since all of them are tiny, but they do have windows. Once I can move some of my stuff there, I won't need as much space here at home. Of course, my husband hardly uses his office at GVSU, preferring instead to do his work at home.
That actually frustrates me since I feel shut out. Since he's been on this hiring committee, he's been putting in more hours than he does when he's teaching. I told him he should go for department chair since he might as well be paid a 12-month salary if he's going to work just as hard when he's not teaching. He'd be an excellent dept. chair, but he insists he doesn't want the job. I think he's uncomfortable at the idea of telling his buddy Dave what to do. If he has trouble, he can just ask me to do it. There have been a number of things I've wanted to tell Dave to do, over the years since I've met him. Most of them are unpleasant. He's not my favorite person.
Yesterday my husband's salary/raise came in the mail. He's getting a 3.2 percent increase, which is good, but the students will be unhappy that ANY faculty got raises since their tuition is going up a whopping 13 percent. My husband will now be making nearly TWICE what my new salary is going to be! He'll be teaching only three classes to my four and having to drive only 10 miles compared to my 66 (one way).
Another thing that GVSU has done, aside from the tuition increase, was to give benefits to faculty members' partners. That has incited a rash of homophobia from one of our state senators, who insists that such a move encourages students to become gay. It's hard to imagine that such idiotic sentiment exists, but of course it does.
While I'm sounding off, I want to mention a commercial that I despise. It's for Secret deodorant. This tiny young black-haired woman in a pink tank top goes around a city with her arms up, showing how she stays dry, fresh, etc. I wish Saturday Night Live would do a parody of that ad, except when the woman raises her arms, she's got huge pitbushes to show off, and the people she's pit-flashing all fall over in a dead faint from the odor. That woman irritates me so much that if she ever came up to me with those skinny little arms up in the air, I'd bitch-slap her.
On another note, totally unrelated the way I usually think, the "hairdresser to the stars" on the Today Show has declared that frosted hair is OUT. Somebody needs to tell the gazillion stylists in salons across the country, since it's hard to go in just to get a trim without the big sales pitch to add "just a few highlights." Of course, that guy on Today wants to dye everyone's hair red, including little old white-haired grannies. I'm sorry, but I'd rather see frosted hair than to see some elderly woman sporting neon hair.
I think I've run out of stuff to whine about. S.
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