The cupboard under the stairs

No Harry Potter room for us-- couldn't fit a bed in it if you tried. But given the teeny quarters we live in (with no storage space... have I mentioned that enough?), we are trying to maximize every good quality for what it's worth. High ceilings mean cabinets and bookshelves to the rafters. Oddly shaped alcoves get shelved and faced with interesting fabric as a door. Even the bed frame doubles as storage, with some fancy spring action that allows you to lift the foot up to reveal our linen closet. You have to be creative when you're dealing with 100 year old houses b.c. (before closets).

Under the stairs is the latest transformation. The refrigerator, washer and dryer were shoved underneath, but with things piled high on top, we weren't using the available space to the best of its ability. Not to mention it was both unsightly and super loud. I don't know why but washers and dryers in England are ridiculously loud. They may very well be the same decibel as the U.S., and really? What do I know-- I've only experienced them in a garage, basement or a separate laundry room. But all the same in such close quarters (here), if the washing machine was running, forget about watching TV. Even turned up all the way you literally couldn't hear anything.

Enter the ever-handy MRN. We started with some damp-proof and new plaster. Then a vent was fitted through the wall, under the stairs, to the exterior for the dryer. Next came the framing and boxing in to house the washer and dryer and create shelving followed by a new light (since the single bulb hanging from the ceiling really wasn't doing it for me; not to mention it kept burning through boxes and bags I was storing up there above the microwave... a teeny bit of a fire hazard). And finally? The piéce de résistance-- bespoke (English-ism meaning custom) doors to match our kitchen, made by hand by the talented MRN.

The awesomely crazy thing about the feat is that there is literally not a straight wall in this house. Partially to do with its age, although I suspect much of it to do with the cowboys who called themselves builders, it means lots and lots of extra work to make anything look right or doors to actually open. This project was no different, but sheer genius has prevailed. The result? Amazing cabinets that even have room for the vacuum (courtesy of yet another custom shelf) and a laundry basket. All hidden away by beautiful doors.

Can you tell I'm excited??

damp course treatment and new plaster































lovely light bulb













yes-- sooooo attractive...













boxed in and getting tidier (new refrigerator... the teeny one broke... thank goodness)
















new doors going in, pre-sanding and painting



































painted and beautiful, color matched to kitchen cabinets

















and another bonus-- a place to hide keys and (finally) hang my key ring key (that i love). oh-- and get things off the front of the refrigerator (which MRN hates).

Rant

Yes, I live in the ghetto. I've complained about it often-- mostly in jest, but certainly loudly. I live in the equivalent of a housing project where the town council dumps all the non-contributors to society where they don't have any other place to put them. These are the dredges-- the people who are working the system-- claiming benefits by having more and more children but can't afford to actually take care of them. Because when you live in a socialist country where they just throw money at you, why would you bother working? These aren't people who the system should be working for-- the elderly, disabled, people who aren't physically or mentally capable of taking care of themselves. These are young, able-bodied people. I know this because they hang out on the street in front of their (and my) house drinking and smoking (even the pregnant ones), playing really loud music while screaming and playing soccer and running around like idiots. This is what my tax dollars are paying for?

Don't get me wrong-- I believe in a system that helps people that need it. What I don't support is a system that turns a blind eye because it's harder to do the work and makes it easy to take advantage of it. Sure, these people, who are clearly able-bodied and can work, are working it because they can-- they obviously have no self-respect or pride. But why should the government reward them for that? Why are they not held accountable for what they take? There's a tv show here called "Benefits Busters" where a woman with a child was claiming benefits and not working because she couldn't afford to pay for childcare. So instead, the taxpayers were paying for her lifestyle-- which included a large, two story, three bedroom house, new car, 52 in flat screen tv... all without having to lift a finger. Ummm-- her lifestyle is better than mine, a two income household where we work our tails off saving money, paying our bills-- and apparently for this woman's life as well. This might sound crazy, but why wouldn't the government, I don't know-- subsidize childcare through someone actually working for it? But no-- in the UK it's free money all the time.

Yesterday was the breaking point for me. I was upstairs working in my home office and turned toward the window when I heard a noise. There, a 20-something man standing in his backyard, proceeded to unzip his pants, whip out his penis and pee. IN HIS BACKYARD that is overlooked by a half a dozen houses. I thought-- what kind of lazy does it take for someone to walk into the backyard to pee rather than using the bathroom. This is where I live?!? And really?? Do I really need to see some stranger's body parts before my second cup of tea in the morning?

Yes, I am a sometimes Pollyanna-- I try to look for the good even when it's buried deep in s(*$t. Sure I had ridiculous fantasies of us cleaning up the area-- literally and figuratively. Setting a good example-- picking up trash, working with the local council, community police, inspiring good action through good action. And I tried for a better part of a year. But the only thing that this experience has taught me is that pay it forward is just a movie. Working the system is the only thing that actually pays you back. It makes me sad though-- for the babies and the children of these people. You see the cycle just repeating itself. They weren't taught anything by their parents-- self respect, setting goals and working for them, accountability... and now their children-- these innocent little things that are so dependent on them, are in the same boat. Really, really sad.