When you buy a used house, you inherit items the previous owners left behind—either intentionally (a pond full of koi) or accidentally (brand-new oven mitts, price tags still attached, that had slipped behind a kitchen drawer). Our excitement over the latter discovery was way out of proportion; we high-fived each other like we’d just won the lottery or something.
Hey, free is free.
Another thing Dick and Carol left behind? The original blueprints to our house. They were rolled up in the closet of a spare bedroom, gathering dust. And while they were fascinating to look at, I kinda wish we’d never found them, because they pissed me off.
D & C made some modifications to the home that, quite frankly, suck. The most egregious: the builder had planned an en suite bathroom in the primary bedroom, but somebody crossed out the word BATH (rather forcefully, it seems) and penciled in NO.
Instead, they turned that space into a walk-in closet.
Don’t get me wrong, a walk-in closet is nice, but you know what’s nicer? Not having to stumble down the hall at 2 a.m. to take a piss. Besides, there are two other closets in the bedroom. His and hers. I could easily fit all my clothes in one of them. Not sure about Tara, but I could always lease her a foot or two of space in mine if need came to be. I’m thoughtful that way.
So, we have three closets in our bedroom, but only one contains clothing. Making matters worse, there’s only one full bath (plus a half-bath in the basement). Which means if two people need the shower at the same time, they’re going to have to cozy up and share the soap.
Also notably absent from our bedroom, according to those blueprints? A freakin’ fireplace. We could have enjoyed a nice, roaring blaze from the comfort of our bed on a cold winter’s night, followed by a luxurious soak in the tub in our en suite bathroom, which is pretty much my version of nirvana.
Dammit, Dick!
There are other subtle changes from blueprint to reality. We do not have a cupola on the roof, a flower box under the living room window, or decorative stonework around the bottom half of the house. And Tara would have loved the laundry chute that never materialized; this would have saved her the hassle of carrying baskets of dirty clothes down the stairs. Truth is, I would have geeked out over that thing too. I guess on the plus side, my wife is spared from hearing me yell, “He shoots! He scores!” every time I tossed a pair of balled-up dirty socks down the chute, which I guarantee would have been a daily occurrence.
All these subtractions are annoying, but I have to keep in mind the fact that Dick and Carol were both teachers, which means their discretionary income was probably limited. Once those dollar signs started adding up, they had to prioritize what was most important to them.
Either that or Carol had one hell of a shoe collection and didn’t like bubble baths.
George Foreman’s been knocked out.
I recently read an article about how the air fryer has become the most popular countertop appliance in America, besting the blender, trouncing the toaster, conquering the coffee pot, and muscling out the multi-cooker.
This surprised me.
We have an air fryer and we like it just fine, but our go-to is still the Instant Pot.
I had no idea the air fryer was so versatile. According to the article, a lot of people don’t even bother with the oven, using their air fryer to cook almost everything: steak, pork chops, wings, fish filets, fresh veggies, you name it. Some intrepid home chefs even roast whole chickens in the air fryer! I feel kinda silly just using mine to heat up frozen chicken patties. Clearly, our air fryer has not been living up to its full potential.
Armed with this knowledge, I set about finding new recipes to try. The first thing that caught my eye? Stuffing balls! (Did I choose this recipe just so I could ask Tara, “Do you feel like stuffing balls in your mouth?” I plead the fifth.)
Regardless of the reason, they were easy-peasy: I combined a box of Stovetop stuffing mix, a tablespoon of butter, and 1.75 cups of boiling water, and added a spritz of nonstick cooking spray to crisp them up. I used an ice cream scoop to ensure my balls were uniform in shape and size (lopsided balls just won’t cut it), cooked them in the air fryer at 350° for ten minutes, flipped ’em over, cooked them another five minutes, and voila!
Crispy exterior? Check. Moist interior? Check. I daresay my balls were lip-smackingly delicious. Trust me: you’d go back for seconds.
Now I’m putting that air fryer to good use!
Would you rather have an en suite bathroom or a walk-in closet? Do you have an air fryer, and if so, what are some of your go-to recipes?
Mark My Words 
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