Re-run

Yep, everything on television is a re-run during the writers' strike, so why should anything be different here at Chapterhouse? (besides the facts that I'm worn out from getting ready to move, and I'm too lazy to come up with something new for the occasion.)


I hope to get back to normal (whatever that is) in a week or two and come around and harass each and every one of you!

Click here for the re-run.

Kitchen Sink

I've added a link on my sidebar to Sen. Obama's fact-checker site. If any of you Obama supporters want to put one on your blog, email me for the code (unless you just want to make one of your own.) There's a link to my email on the Profile page.


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Today's the day for the (alleged) closing on Maxwell House! ASSuming the fat lady sings, by late this afternoon Tomcat and I will be renters here at Maxwell House until we move to an apartment by the end of February. Maxwell House was left to me by my ex-husband, Max. We were married for three years, divorced in 1971, but remained friends all the years until his death in 2004. Tomcat and I married in 1986, and Max and Tom truly enjoyed being husbands-in-law. Max had a stroke three years before he died. We tried to help him run the house (it's chopped up into five apartments; Max lived upstairs) and take him to the grocery store and doctor, etc. I'll never forget the time Tom rigged up a pulley for Max on the second-floor back porch. That way, instead of carrying anything up or down the stairs, Max could put the item(s) in a basket and use the pulley. Isn't that something? I have some mixed feelings about leaving this place, but it's 95 years old and needs a lot of work. So we're moving on.

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Finally, I don't know about you, but I am so sick of "reality" shows! Did anyone watch that new one last night, The Moment of Truth? I was torn between wanting to see what it was like, and wanting to boycott it at the time time. It was one of those things like watching a train wreck - you don't want to look, but you can't look away. It was brutal. I think the first guy lost his marriage and possibly his livelihood, not to mention the money, when it was over. His marriage because he confessed to delaying a decision to have children because he's not sure his wife is the right one to be his life partner, and his livelihood because he's a personal trainer, and he lied about occasionally touching female clients more than absolutely necessary. After the lie, a contestant is disqualified and loses all the money he was playing for. In the personal trainer's case, he was at the $100,000 level. I don't think I'll watch it again because the delay in announcing whether a response is "true" or "false" is annoying - they stretch it out so long that it's just silly and irritating.

I can't wait for the return of Lost! Here is a fabulous link to LostPedia. You could spend DAYS there, there's so much information to read. You can even post your own theories on the site. I hope the writers' strike is resolved (damn those producers!) in time to finish up the series before I 'splode.

Movin on up

IF the fat lady sings this time, then one week from today we'll close on the sale of this house. You know, so we could go to North Carolina. Except ... Tomcat just took a new job here and so we're going to stay in the Dallas area for at least another year. The company has an office in NC, so maybe later he can work out a transfer.

In the meantime, we decided to move to an apartment, and wait to buy another house until we're actually in NC. We found an apartment within walking distance to Tom's office. It's been over 20 years since I've lived in an apartment, and boy have things changed. This will be like living in a luxury hotel. Exercise gym, internet cafe with free coffee and danishes every morning and brunch once a month, wi-fi garden, massage therapist, business center with fax and photocopier, etc., parking garage, and that's not even talking about the apartment itself!

So, here's the problem: what to wear? I mean, we're coming from the East Dallas, lower Greenville Avenue area, where we pride ourselves on being laid back. Unlike upper Greenville, we don't have a dress code.

I need a whole new wardrobe, just for walking the dog. No more jeans, T-shirt, and grubby sneakers. Hell, Scruffybutt needs a whole new wardrobe, too. Lookit this pink sweater on her, old and frayed in places and pulled out of shape. This will not do.


Plus, we're both going to have to go to the groomers more often.

Bonus pic:


Here's Scruffybutt on the bed with our two cats, Katy and Shadow. We can only have two pets at the apartment, so fortunately, Katy's previous owner can take her back now that she's living in an apartment that allows pets.

Which leaves us with a dog, a cat, and a lovebird. I'm trying to find a home for the lovebird. Her name is Lisa, and she's the last of four. Here's a pic of her in the aviary Tomcat built for her, which is made out of wood and plexiglass. It's huge - 6' x 6' x 2'. The aviary goes with her if anyone wants it, or we have a regular bird cage for her to live in. No dress code.

So last night we're contemplating the positive aspects of (possibly) moving out of a hundred-year-old house into a (temporary) apartment:

He: Central heat and air.

She: Dishwasher.

He: Garbage disposer.

She: I love it when you talk like that.

Real Estate Dramedy, Reprise

As both of my regular readers know, I inherited a 100-year-old house from Max, my ex-husband, when he passed away four years ago. "Maxwell House" was chopped into a five-plex, probably after WWII when there was a housing shortage. Tomcat and I operated it as a rental property for a while (you may remember the stories about some of the tenants, like the Extreme Party Girls and the Cat Lady.) Then we put it on the market, thinking we would sell it and move to North Carolina so we could at least be in the same state as family.

Hahahahaaaaaaaaa. Well, it didn't sell. Long story short, over the space of a year, we signed contracts with five different investors but each one backed out at the last minute. Then I had a bervous nerkdown, we took the house off the market, gave notice to the tenants, and after having some work done on the place, we moved into Maxwell House. That was about a year and a half ago.

Now we're going to try this again. The place is now included in a new historic district, which may or may not be a plus, depending on who the prospective buyers are. It's certainly in better condition on the interior than it was when we first put it on the market. However, the market? Well, it's a little soft, as our realtor says. (Thank you, Bu$hCo, for trashing the economy even worse than your daddy did. Geez, I miss the Clinton years!)

Anyway, wish us luck on this venture again. We are going to get to North Carolina this time. Really. We are.

Reality check

I got a catalog from Mary Maxim Needlework and Crafts, touting Over 400 New Items! plus 21 Pages of Exciting Christmas Crafts! There was a time when this would have set my lil ole heart to pitt-a-patting, but today? Not so much. No, it isn't because I'm now an atheist and therefore the Christmas holiday hasn't the same meaning it once did. I still "do" the holidays. It's just that my interests are changing. No, no - that's not it, either. It's that ... I've had to narrow my interests down to what can actually be accomplished in Real Life. (Oh, and that reminds me of a great cartoon I recently StumbledUpon. This will only be funny if you've spent any time in VR... But I digress.)

I used to have a craft room full of stuff, with hundreds of projects tabbed and indexed in hanging files. I used to have boxes of patterns for clothes and drapes and Christmas projects. I used to have tons of fabric and yarn. I used to spend summers crafting everything from afghans to ornaments, from decoupaged footstools to clocks.

Then, several things happened. One, I started writing, and that took up a lot of my crafting time. Actually, now it's like everything takes up my writing time.

Another thing was a bit of arthritis in my hands, so I had to give up thread crochet - no more lacy bookmarks for friends at Christmas. Then I had to give up all but Q-hook crochet - that's the huge hook that can be held comfortably, but you can only make afghans with it, and after a while, meh.

Here's the thing. I'm getting older. Not old, mind you, because that doesn't happen to us Boomers. No, it doesn't. Stop laughing - it does not happen to us! See, I'm getting older ('course, not as old as Hoss), so I'm more aware of the fact that chances are, I'll never get around to doing those hundreds of craft projects. I didn't come to this realization just now - that was a year ago when we were going to sell Maxwell House and make our alleged move to North Carolina - hah!

It was back then when I realized that instead of packing all those nicely-indexed projects and craft supplies, I should face reality and only keep the things that I (1) enjoy doing the most (and can still do), and (2) that I might actually get around to finishing.

That left ... needlepoint.

And writing.

I and my creative muses will be perfectly happy concentrating on those two things. See, when you're young, you believe you really can do it all because you're not thinking about practical things like time. And maybe some of you overachievers (like my in-laws) out there actually do get it all done. I applaud you as I mutter under my breath.

So, the Mary Maxim catalog goes into the recycling pile, and until the day that I do the same, I'll be here happily writing and needlepointing (hmm, there might even be a way to do those at the same time...)

I don't know about you, but I'm having a hard time dealing with the fact that Melinda was voted off American Idol last night. Week after week, she blew the competition away. Her gorgeous voice, her power, her versatility, her sheer damn talent, and she's voted out? It ain't right.

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I have my smelling salts ready because this week at Maxwell House, I'm taking estimates on rewiring this whole place. It's a hundred-year-old house, and some of the wiring is (yikes!) original. (The last time we had an electrician out here, he took pictures with his cell phone to show his boss.)

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I was visiting Hoss's b**g today and he was talking about being a bird freak. I am, too. Birds love to talk to each other, and our remaining lovebird, Lisa, chirps away whenever she hears another bird. Or something that she thinks is a bird. Like the beeps from the microwave, timers, answering machines ... She also loves music, especially Pink Floyd and Stevie Ray Vaughan. Rolling Stones? Not so much.

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When you were little, did you have picture books? I can't remember anything like that from my childhood, although sometimes my father would make up stories for me about twins named Millie and Tillie. Anyway, did you have a favorite character? I got to thinking about this because I'll be going to a costume party later in the year for a children's book writers group I belong to. We're supposed to dress up as a favorite book character. I just can't think of any!

Okay, all the white girls can go home. Last night's American Idol lineup was awesome. So much talent, and it all belonged to the Black gals. We didn't have one white girl who could represent, not one. And the girls' competition is the only one to watch, at least as far as I can tell at this point, because none of the guys even came close to the talent of last night's bunch. I can't believe I never watched this show before this season. I know, I know [beating head against wall] what was I thinking.

And you know what - I actually like Simon. He tells these people the truth, but most of them are too invested in their own egos to see that he's doing them a favor.

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Ever since we moved into Maxwell House last summer, we've been trying to get the place changed on the City and County's records from a commercial, multi-tenant property to a residential single-family property. So many times I've been told to do such-and-such and that would take care of it, then we'd get another citation or something for not filing the proper forms. Tomcat even went down to talk to these people once and they told him not to worry, that the court case had been removed from the docket. Well, we shoulda known, because it wasn't, and since we didn't show up, they got a summary judgment against us. [steam coming out ears.]

We received notice of another court date. We also received a letter from the Grand Poobah at Code Compliance recommending the case for dismissal. But we went down to the courthouse on Monday anyway, just in case. Sure enough, they didn't have the letter in their files yet, so the case would have proceeded. It felt SO good to listen to the prosecutor present their case, have the Judge ask what I had to say to that, and then whip that letter out and read it. Heh. After the prosecutor and the guy who was apparently training her looked it over, they sheepishly told the judge that since the letter predated the summary judgment, they had taken that in error, and that they recommended dismissing the whole thing. The judge agreed. Tomcat went up to the bench to get a copy of the dismissal, and then the judge noticed Tom's Masonic pin and asked what lodge he belonged to. :) So now, Tomcat insists that this is yet another piece of evidence that "they" rule the world. [snerking just a little, because ... maybe he's right.]

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At our writer's group yesterday we had a sort of show-and-tell meeting. One of the guys brought this wonderful storyboard he made for the novel he's writing. I had only seen a picture of it on Pooks' blog before (btw, Pooks is joining us!), and I had based my own method on that picture (using sticky notes for each scene, and sticking them in my Moleskine.) Well, after seeing his storyboard, I had to have one of my own, so I stopped by Staples on the way home to get one. Basically, you get a science project board - you know the kind that folds out like a triptik - and you put each scene on an index card and stick them on the board. The top row, going across, is Act I, the next two rows are Act II to the Midpoint, then the rest of Act II to the end, and the last row is for Act III. The cards go on the board accordian style so that you can flip each card up to see what the scene is, and what the conflict is. The bottom of the card is the only part showing, and on that you write the name of the scene and the emotional arc of that scene. Way cool. This is going to help me actually *see* the parts of the story that need more fleshing out.

What I've been writing recently is turning out really well - lots of action and tension going on. Nobody liked the fact that I shot the protag, though. I guess that didn't really *need* to happen, come to think of it. (Now I can actually say "back to the drawing board" only it's a storyboard.)

Okay, I'm hitting the boards now. Have a great day!

In A Funk

Blick. I'm in a funk. Writer's block. Blogging block. Constipated with words. Or full of it, you might say. Ew. See? Terrible analogy.

Knowing I need to write. Staring at the keyboard. Which produced this profundity:

Thank goodness for keyboards; otherwise, we'd have to operate our 'puters with
our bare hands.

How sad is that?

This is how sad - I am the Tagee of an alphabet meme, and I am going to answer it right here, right now. You were warned.

A- Available or single? And so, it's come to this.

B- Best Friend? Tomcat, who is also the love of my life.

C- Cake or pie? Cake. Icing optional.

D- Drink of choice? Coffee. Hot and black (no, that's not a reference to how I like my men.)

E- Essential item I use every day. Fork.

F- Favorite color: Red.

G- Gummy Bears or Gummy Worms? Ick.

H- Hometown? Wherever my home is. I was born in Smalltown, Texas, but haven't been there since the age of one.

I- Indulgence: Half-Price Book Store.

J- January or February? Yes. (WTF?)

K- Kids and names: Scruffybutt and Katycat.

L- Life is incomplete without? Music.

M- Marriage date: I always date before marriage.

N- Number of siblings: Two.

O- Oranges or apples? Yes, but for comparison purposes only.

P- Phobias or fears? Both.

Q- Favorite quote?: For every action, there's an overreaction (from Maxwell, my ex, and the subtitle of my WIP, Gino's Law.)

R- Reasons to smile: Hoss' b**g, CuteOverload.

S- Season: Tarragon's my favorite.

T- Tag 3 or 4 people. I'll tag one. Dan Rockstar is so due.

U- Unknown fact about me: I can rewrite a dream while I'm dreaming. Do other people do that, too?

V- Vegetable you don’t like: Beets, but it's not personal.

W- Worst habit: Starting a blog and then not keeping up with it.

X- X-Rays: They're why I don't go swimming in the ocean.

Y- Your favorite food? The ones with large amounts of cholesterol.

Z- Zodiac sign? Aquarius.

What Was She Thinking? And Other Stuff

Nancy Pelosi wanted Sen. Murtha as Majority Leader. Wha - ??? This, after putting such emphasis on ethics reform, which Murtha opposes, and knowing that there were clouds in his past. I'm impressed that the Dems refused to elect him. This is healthy, and should send her the right message. I'm just disappointed that she started out this badly.

***
Emmitt Won! Mario Lopez is a fantastic dancer, and will probably have a stunning career on Broadway if he wants it. But Emmitt is has a special place in my heart, and not just because he's a former Dallas Cowboy and the greatest running back of all time. He's a fine human being, a wonderful father, and as we can now see, a phenomenal dancer. To top it all off, he has sex appeal. As one fan of the show recently put it, he has a smile that makes your panties fall off. :)

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We had a very fine writers' group meeting yesterday. We now have two new members, and are expecting a third by the end of the year. That will bring us to six total, which should be about right for us. It feels like a good group. These people are grownups who are focused on the writing and how to make it better.

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I got all my Thanksgiving recipes together today so I can make out my grocery list. Since moving to Maxwell House this summer, I now have three full kitchens, two downstairs and one upstairs. Well, I shouldn't say "full kitchens," exactly, because I don't have garbage disposals or dishwashers, and won't until we upgrade the electrical system. I'm looking forward to cooking this year and finally having room for a big ole dining table.

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It sucks that we won't get to see Lost again until January. Tomcat and I decided to eschew the new series they've put into the time slot. That'll teach them. Seriously, have you ever seen so much hype over a new show? I got so sick of seeing the trailers for it; they ran it into the ground before the first episode aired.

Plumbing the Depths

I learn something every time the plumbers come out to the house, which is more often than I'd like - not the learning something, the plumbing problems.

Did you know that crawling around underneath houses can get you electrocuted? That's why one guy stays outside while the other guy goes under there, in case they need to turn off the electricity in a hurry.

There are wires under the house along with all those pipes down there. With the humidity, plus possible leaks, it's a dangerous situation if someone comes in contact with a wire. They explained that if a 220 wire zaps you, it'll knock you away from it. It might take half your finger off in the process, but at least you just get a quick zap. If it's a 110, however, the current will hold you forever unless the electricity is turned off. Not a good way to go.

And another thing: it's not a good idea to take an extension cord down there with you. Use a flashlight instead of taking a task light under there. Don't use power tools, either.

Tomcat's been under the house before, and is planning to go back again to do something about the loose boards on the porch that keep coming up. Now that we know about the electrical situation, we can use the buddy system that the plumbers use.

Just thought I'd pass this on!

Somewhere in here is an iron ...

and I'm looking real hard for it. Ahem.

I found a sink,

and the ironing board, and a Scruffybutt, tho.

Someday, this is going to be my laundry/sewing/crafts room.

But for now, I'll call it "Before" and let it go at that.

The 'Hood

It's been two years today since Max died (my ex, who left Maxwell House to us), and tomorrow will mark 25 years since my mother died.

Twenty-six years ago (1980), I was living in the garage apartment out back (Max and I divorced in 1973), and my sister was living in Apt. A, which is now, since Tomcat and I have moved into the house, our living room, dining room, and kitchen.

That year was the worst heatwave on record for Dallas. This year's heatwave, as horrible as it is, does not even come close - it's ranked seventh behind 1980. The highest official temperature was recorded that year - 113. I remember that day vividly. I was working in the concrete canyons downtown at the time, and when I left the office around 5:00 and exited the revolving doors, I was hit with a blast of heat that made me gasp for air. The time-and-temp sign on a nearby bank registered 121 degrees. On one of those days, the air conditioning went out where my mother lived at the time, in an apartment complex a couple of miles away. I went to pick her up immediately to stay the night. I don't remember the statistics, but I do know that a lot of people died that year from heatstroke.

Back then at Maxwell House, everyone stayed indoors in the evening because it was too hot to go out on the patio. It's the same way this year, even though the patio's overgrown and there's no place to sit out there anyway. I have a picture of how it used to look, and some day we'll excavate to uncover the brick pathways and all the slate underneath the vegetation. That's a low priority since we have other things to do first - like update the electrical system, have some foundation work done, and put a new roof on.

The garage apartment where I used to live is now a studio for my friend Grace, the artist, who lives a couple of blocks away. The garage is - or will be - Tomcat's workshop. Grace fell in love with the place when she was looking for a studio because "It's me; it's old and funky and leans to the left." (Grace is a few years younger than I, so of course she can't be old.) The whole building IS leaning, but Tomcat assures me it isn't about to fall down.

I didn't really have a point when I started this post - it's just a day of remembering how things used to be around here. There was an old lady who lived in Apt. D upstairs - which is now our bedroom and "morning kithen." Her name was Nellie. She would watch for me to come home from work sometimes, and when I drove up in the driveway, she'd holler from the back stairs that she had made some "nanner puddin," because she knew that was one of my favorites. What a sweetie, dear old Nellie. Some years later, Nellie moved away - to get married to a 93-year-old man she met at church!

When Max first bought the place, long before I lived in the garage apt., he also had two other houses on the same block - all rental properties filled with rats and roaches. He always referred to it as his "rat-killin business" because that's literally what he did for the first few years - get rid of the rats, the roaches, and the two-legged vermin (mostly druggies) who lived on the block. Little by little he'd evict for nonpayment of rent, clean up and fix up, raise the rent a bit, and screen new tenants. When we'd talk on the phone sometimes, he'd say, "Well, I've got to back to my rat-killin." He'd mow almost all of the lawns on the street, haul the trash, and he'd call the cops every time the low-lifes across the street stood out in the yard drinking and shooting guns into the air. It took a long time, but now the block is clean, quiet, and peaceful.

He sold the other two houses. One was torn down, and the other has been fixed up very nicely by the new owners. The trashy houses across the street are gone and have been replaced with some well-managed condos. This side of the street is a long row of 100-year-old prairie-style houses, and the block has just been included in a new historic district.

Well, I've got to get back to my rat-killin. :)

Ah, The Weekend

officially started last night with yet another trip to Home Despot for yet another window unit air conditioner, because the one in the bedroom finally bit the dust. It couldn't have held on another few weeks 'til the weather cooled, of course.

Tomcat has already been outside moving garden-type stuff out of the garage and into a shed, and taking the old air conditioner out to the curb. Any outside work has to be done early in the morning because this is going to be another 104-degree day. This is the 45th day of 100+ temps.

Today's project: assemble the bed frame in the guest room (Tom), unpack the stuff that goes in the kitchen adjacent to the guest room (me), and unpack all the other boxes in there that contain junk objects de art and decide where it all goes (me.)

Hope y'all have a restful weekend, too.

Home

It's starting to look and feel like home around here at Maxwell House. At first I felt like I was living in a building, but that's changed. I wonder why that is. What is it that makes a place feel right, feel homey?

It could be the drapes on the windows, the clothes hanging in the closets, the pets underfoot and all that. It could be that we had our first dinner here with good friends (and neighbors) - Grace, the artist, Evets, and their daughter, Stephanie.

Maybe it's that our own unique "vibes" have permeated the place by now, you suppose? Is that what is meant by "home is where the heart is?"

Can You Put a Plumber on Retainer?

Usually, when Tomcat comes home from work, we kissy-face greet each other, he gives the dogs a treat, we ask each other about our day, and so forth. But yesterday, he comes rushing through the door shouting, "Where's the key to the garage apartment?!" Seems the pipe leading to the toilet had somehow come loose and water was gushing down into the workshop below.

And, of all the cheap plumbing connections in this place, the garage apartment bathroom is the only one without a water shutoff valve. He managed to get the pipe propped up to stop the leak, hopefully long enough for the plumber to come out and fix it.

I called the plumber this morning. One of the guys answered instead of Charlotte, who is on vacation this week. I know most of the guys by name, and Charlotte recognizes my voice when I call. That's because we see and talk to each other so often since moving into Maxwell House.

A couple of weeks ago, they were out here because water was pouring through the downstairs bathroom light fixture and part of the ceiling was falling down. That's because Tomcat tried to install the washing machine upstairs where there used to be a small kitchenette. Something that was supposed to be threaded together was actually welded, and when he tried to wrench it apart, the whole thing broke. Then Tomcat jury-rigged the thing together so we could wash a load of clothes, but water was leaking out everywhere. We were just back from vacation, and REALLY needed some clean clothes. We put buckets under the leaks, but the buckets overflowed during the night.

I have to stop telling the plumbing story here to regale you with the dryer story: After we washed that load of clothes, we put them in our new dryer. After a while, we couldn't figure out why the clothes weren't getting dry. It finally dawned on us that we had a gas dryer. Hahahahaaaaa! We FORGOT that it was gas! How does that happen? Jet lag, that's how. See, we used to have an electric dryer. But, in order to use that in this house, we'd have to have the electrician come out and install a 220 outlet.

Regular readers will remember that the last time we had the electrician out, he took pictures of the fuse boxes with his cell phone to show his supervisor. That's because the electric system is original to the house, i.e., it's a hundred years old.

So, we found a gas dryer on sale. Only we forgot that it was gas when it came time to use it.

So, when the plumber came out to hook up the washer, he also had to hook up the gas dryer. That time, when the plumber left, he said, "Don't let your husband do anything else."

Tomcat said if he hadn't known these people for 20 years, he might have taken offense, but as it was, it was more funny than anything else.

Oh - about that leak in the garage apartment last night - the only reason Tomcat discovered the leak in the first place was because he wanted to store some things in the workshop before he came in the house. What was he going to store? Back issues of Handyman magazine.

Did I Mention?

Did I mention that The Move took five guys, two trucks, and just over 12 hours?

Upstairs-Downstairs

We have Internet at last. (The first phone company appointment was a no-show.)

As soon as this post is up, I'm gonna start catching up on your blogs - boy, have I missed you guys!

Since the move, I feel like I'm living in a building, not a house, much less a home. Tomcat and I are basically living upstairs in the larger of the two efficiency apartments here at Maxwell House. That's because the floors of one apartment downstairs are being refinished, and the furniture and boxes for that part of the house are piled up in the other downstairs apartment. Put another way, one apartment is empty so the guy can do the floors, and the other apartment is crammed with all the furniture and boxes of everything that will stay downstairs. We can't even unpack much down there because of the fumes from the floor project.

Above stairs, the teensy small efficiency is crammed with boxes of stuff for a sewing/laundry room, but there's no air conditioner in there at the moment. It was 100 degrees here today, and there's no way I'm unpacking anything without A/C. There's no washer hookup yet (Tomcat's had more important things to do, like getting the Internet up and stuff, not to mention his day job.)

The full-sized apartment up here is where Tom has his office and where our books are housed, mostly still in boxes. That's because even though we now have a library, we have more books than shelf space. I'm not going to let this whole place be taken up with books. God knows I have nothing against books. I adore books. But sometimes, we have to let go. This is the time for Tomcat us to do so.

This week, the Internet. Next week: cable television (yesterday's appointment was a no-show.)

Sigh.

Scruffybutt says she wants the laptop now.

What Was I Thinking?!

The movers are coming Wednesday morning. To move us.

How can two people with no children accumulate this much crap stuff?

Oops

Progress on the second interior doorway is slightly delayed.