ONE OF THE MANY advantages of designing your own home is that you need not follow the dimensions of other people. And size does matter.
In the five-year period between when my last wife tossed me on the street in Houston in favor of her new boyfriend, an illegal-alien Mexican half her age,* and the day I boarded a Delta jet in Atlanta headed to Guadalajara I lived in three apartments in Houston.
Their kitchens were laughable in size. The strangest of all was the second place, a huge, two-bedroom, living room, dining room, office, spread that had a kitchen you could hardly turn around in. And the counter space? Virtually zero.
The other two abodes were not much better.
When I designed the Hacienda on graph paper (no architect in sight), an effort I shared with my child bride though I did most of it, I decided to go big.
The kitchen counter measures a bit over 23 feet, and yet my wife and I bump into one another if we’re both fixing something. And that 23 feet does not include the separate work table there at the right, added a few years later.
Then there’s the bathroom where again I decided to go long. The bathroom counter is almost 11 feet, but it has a major defect, a reflection of my stupidity. There is just one sink. It never occurred to me to install two sinks, which is all the rage.
Lord knows there is space. Again, we bump into one another.
I am tall, and all my life I’ve been bending over to get under showerheads which sprayed me nicely … on the back. The two showers here come straight down from high overhead. It’s really sweet, akin to bathing in a jungle waterfall.
Designing your own home is preferable, and if you do it in Mexico, cheap.
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* The relationship did not last long. Shocker!
(Note: Tomorrow marks the end of President Trump’s first year in office. I have an exciting roundup of his remarkable accomplishments. Stay tuned. You don’t want to miss it. Manaña on The Unseen Moon where the news is biased but never fake!)