No, really, I did. These pants really needed it, and I'm not picky. I have no idea where my real iron is. I haven't used it in years. I know where the ironing board is only because I had to move it when my youngest daughter decided to try doing laundry at 11:30pm one Thursday night. I told her to wait for me but Nooooooo. Not that it would have mattered. We have well water and septic and gave up on a water softener a few years ago because it kept flooding the backyard every time it cycled. So my pipes corrode routinely. The plumber isn't just in my contacts but occupies a semi-prominent space on my smartphone. I have a life-time service contract which is worth every penny. I highly recommend it. The green and white crusty blob that surrounded the end of the washing machine hose at the faucet at last gave out. The ironing board is in the furnace room on the opposite side of the wall of the laundry room. I had to move it to mop up all the water. At least I already knew where the water shut off valve was, under the stairs. That used to be storage space. Used to be.

So while this blog is actually here for a much different purpose than The Epic Adventures of a Day in the Life of Carolyn (the struggle is real), I will let this serve as a place to learn, muse, argue; grow. My original, pressing task, part of a Foundations course for the Masters program in Interactive Media at Quinnipiac University, is to read and write. Read and write. Readand write. Readandwrite. Read&write. Deeply; professionally; with thought and understanding. With passion, with gusto, with joy, of the exposing and nurturing of good thinking. Good Lord, this is terrifying.

I have four adult children that live at home and my house is not huge. We have/had 5 cats, all rescued, three from the rural-suburban wild of northwest NJ, four kids (did I mention that?), 3 turtles, two dogs (they have since passed), and a husband, usually found starting yet another project somewhere in or outside of the house. No partridge in a pear tree, but on rare occasions I can catch a glimpse of finches or woodpeckers, bear and fox, and not-so-rarely deer. They think my Hosta plants are gourmet salad.

I have no idea how I am going to squeeze in all this deep work. It requires solitude. Hubby works nights so that actually has its benefits. But he comes home right when I want to go to bed or when I've already passed out on the couch. Make food, make more food. Yes, I wait on my husband. I love him and he works hard. He's a simple guy. When I first approached him about getting my Masters, the first thing he said, and I kid you not (it was January), was "But who will hold the ladder?" I have been holding the ladder all summer. I read on my smartphone while baking under the sun while he scrapes, and sands and primes and paints. I will just re-read things and take notes later. Do you know how boring holding a ladder is?

As for the other things that "stretch the idea of 'form follows function,'" that will come in later writings. We are a creative lot, especially my youngest, when it comes to repurposing.