I like hallways.  I like the compartmentalization of them.  The in and the out; the beginning and the end; the start and the finish; the open and the closed.  I like the idea that there is an implied purpose behind each door in the hallway.  There could be a label on the doors and it would not seem odd or out of place.  Everything is neat and orderly and in its rightful place – down the hall.  Newer home styles with all their room (not rooms) freak me the hell out.  “Multi-functional rooms” aren’t my cup of tea.  I suppose I need more direction than that.  Walking into a giant room that has an open kitchen counter, a dining area and a family entertainment pit is about the most confusing and anxiety-inducing surroundings I can imagine.  What am I supposed to do?  Eat?  Cook?  Relax?  Gah!! 

I like having a “dining room,” a “tv room,” a “sitting room,” and a “family room.”  In fact, my dream home would be shaped not unlike a snowflake, with many hallways, and many single-function rooms.  A sewing room, not that out-of-the-question, I’m sure, but don’t call  it a craft room, because if you want to hot-glue anything you’d have to go down the hall to the “assemblage-craft” room.   It would be next to the costume room, the music room, the shoe collection room, the reading room, and the checkbook balancing room.

I also like Wes Anderson movies.  He likes hallways, too, because he likes rooms.  His movies are extended shots of interior dioramas broken up by occasional exterior shots which allow one to exhale.  They are wonderful for the dollhouse fan in me.

I like balancing my checkbook.  I find every penny.  It gives me great joy and closure. 

I like shoes.  I think it’s symbolic.  They take me where I’m going (well, yes, I know my feet do the work, but I rarely go anywhere barefoot, so really the shoes represent the going). 

I like people who will argue with me in a sensible way. 

I like six of my fingernails.

I like that this is in my backyard:

I can hear people scream on the roller coaster all day and night during the summer, and all day and night on the weekends during the rest of the year, and for some reason I like that.  I haven’t looked to deeply into why I get such a bang out of that strange background noise, but I’m hoping it has more to do with childhood memories than pits of hell.