Yah, I think it's social. (Jmho.) It "shows" affluence of a twisted sort, well, it's not fair to say twisted necessarily, but to have a sacred room for the king and queen or great naval landings, maintained like a shrine, PROVES that you could use that room for high-falooters if you wanted to. It's the physical, carpeted beachhead onto paradise.
The paradise of Society.
("Some" society, "somewhere", not you.)
("If you build it, they will come." But they didn't.)
But I think it can make the inhabitants crazy, except for the perpetrator, whose head should be hacked off.
It's been entombed, moth-balled, cast in acrylic, and would have to be completely decanted to be used. No informal visits from the Bilseys up the street are going to be "entertained" in "the living room." I remember the headache I got in Utah when I ran into my first confoundment of plastic covers on the room there no one went in. I tried to get a rational explanation from Roger, and because he didn't have one, he got angry ~ a pretty clear sign of frustration.
I've lived in those houses; I can think of them precisely. The one in Bernice's house took up at least 500 sq ft, Lake Erie, and once in a while Mr was allowed to go in there and fall asleep sitting by a lamp.
Really, the best revenge, if you're into that sort of thing, and I don't blame you, is to screw a special someone on the couch.
It's noisy and an exercise in surface tension and friction, but it's Worth It on The Catharsis Scale. It's pretty exciting.
But don't let Mom or Grammaw see you; you would go to hell for that. Or Beta SI. |
