This is not modern art

This (right) is a support post for our deck.

We were on the deck in the Saturday morning sun, me in my trademark Lanz of Salzburg flannel nightie, waving our arms around trying to make sense of the latest exterior elevation drawings.

Then an über poppy tune came on my husband’s well-stocked iPod®, Annie’s song “Me plus one,” so I began shaking my groove thang. He panicked, worried my wild gyrations would cause the rotting deck to finally collapse. He advised me to make a mad dash to through the screen door if I felt the platform pull away. So I took it down a few dozen notches to “white man’s overbite.”

Crisis averted—at least for now—we went back to contemplating the drawings. What do we tell the firm? How about, “If you were trying to create the ugliest dormer in the history of architecture: congratulations! You’ve succeeded!” I laughed, wondering whether his e-mail would indeed say this. The pop-out proposed for the front of the house was indeed a monstrosity.

The new drawings also featured flat roofs, which we interpreted as snow and leaf collections systems sure to eventually provide us with new indoor water damage. What good is a flat roof if you cannot walk around on it with a beer in your hand?

The floor plans, however, were now perfect. Exactly what we needed and wanted. So that, at least, was progress.