I could never rescue you/ All you ever wanted/ But I could never rescue you/ No matter how I tried

Since I've not been reading as much as I should lately (#storyof2015 #failingatlife), here's a some random thoughts on another topic.

First, I should preface this story by explaining that my brother Josh and I are not time travelers from the future post-zombie apocalypse world, nor did we grow up in a survivalist cult. I really can't explain why we both have this same quirk.

But, for whatever reason, Josh and I both take an oddly post-apocalyptic/under siege approach to our daily lives (Josh collects machetes). This worked well when we lived together, since my apartment is made for this kind of thing. My father describes it as favela chic, and passersby tend to assume the place is abandoned (it's also dirt cheap, huge, and in an amazing DC neighborhood that lets me walk to work).

While living together, Josh put up tinfoil covered cardboard pieces to block out the sun using dowels, we made a similar contraption to block an odd crawl space off, cut up old shirts to use as dishrags (and stock-piled these shirts, I know other people do this but we took it to a new level), attempted to use only the clean trashbags that our laundry came back in and not buy any, had minimal furniture, and made makeshift plumbing fixtures to address some (serious?) issues there. Duct tape is our friend.

Now, I live with Drew, and I'm coming to realize that Josh and I may not be normal. Whenever Drew wants to call a plumber (for chronic issues I barely notice anymore), my first reaction is to see what Josh thinks. This is because I know he'll back me up. Our motto was "never let a stranger or casual acquaintance or friend in the apartment." Drew, being less off kilter, has probably stopped trusting either of us on this sort of thing.

Part of it, for me, is that I'm fascinated by how we adapt and can come to see anything as normal. For example, after one year with my iPhone the internet stopped working unless I was on wifi, though I have a data plan. However, if I make a call out it will briefly let me access the internet. So, I just make calls out all the time (to 611, not to real people), and I've been doing that for a year and a half, the majority of the time I've owned the phone. I've stopped noticing that I do that. Isn't that amazing? At first it was so annoying! Now it's still annoying, but I've come to almost believe that's what it takes to get online with your phone. Whenever I get a new phone, I'll spend the first few months making unnecessary calls out and feeling amazed. Then, I'll get totally used to it. Brains are so weird

Now, Josh and I aren't exactly the same. He would not put up with this phone thing for this long, I don't think, and I'm not living in a supply closet on a futon on the ground. However, a similar instinct/preference runs through us. Combined with my affinity for art deco, this led to a really odd apartment when we lived together.