Day 22: Odd things around the house Part One

Many things in the house have not changed since we moved in back in June 1972. But some odd things were already in place when we moved in.

When you walk in the front door, you are confronted with a work of art by the artist Daniel Gluck, who used to live across the street. At the moment this piece is decorated, ready for a tiki party; that's my fault. And it's also my fault that I just wrote that and now will not be showing you a photo, as I cannot locate the ones I am sure that I took. That will come in part two...

However, moving into the dining room area, you will encounter the space-age VOICECASTER Intercom and radio sharing system.

I cannot tell you how many hours I wasted when we first moved in, trying to get this thing to work. It never did, and it never will. I tried again, twice, last week, but all you can hear is loud static on the radio, nothing for the intercom.

Here is one outlet, in the upstairs bathroom, next to the toilet. As it is fewer than twenty feet away, it makes more sense to just shout, or knock on the door, anyway.

The other outlet is downstairs (the house was built on a hill, so you enter upstairs and the rest of the house is below), but just at the bottom of the stairs, so again, yelling at the top of the stairs was the best option. That's what my mom always did, anyway. (My room and the family room are downstairs.)

Downstairs, not far from the intercom, you'll find this clock on the wall. It has been there since 1972, and has never worked. Never. I guess this work was not guaranteed. I think it used to read half past six until my father taped both hands. Now it is eternally five o'clock, the cocktail hour, or the crack of dawn, your pick!

Let's venture outside, shall we? Right outside the sliding glass doors you will find this on the wall. It was there when we moved in and I have no idea what building it is directing. When was the last time you saw a Gulf service station, or the last time you called a gas station a service station even? I have seen some visitors staring at this, very puzzled. But rest assured, you are NOT here. I suppose we do have a fireside lounge (or two, actually) but sadly, no coffee shop or crow's nest.
 

 Much more to come in part two, but I will leave you with my contribution to quirkiness. Let us go back upstairs to the living room, where the sofa purchased in 1984 (Hey, it actually is in quite good condition for being more than thirty years old!) lost one of its legs way back in the last decade of the previous century. On a visit here I stuck Jane Austen in place, and Bob's been your uncle ever since. Her beat up anthology was exactly the right height. Thank you, Miss Austen!