A house with character

One advantage of living off-campus is that we have a guest room. But our guest room has a problem -- it rains in it on occasion. There was a torrential downpour this summer that Hannah already wrote about, then a faint drizzle last week (from the bathroom upstairs) -- so that when my friend Alex came to stay Yasha had to warn him about the possibility (Alex said he'll keep an umbrella handy).

Yesterday when we were downstairs we noticed a hole in the outside wall, 1" diameter. We noticed it while talking about Serge Lang's quote "you can't tell ze deeference between a fact and a hole in zee grounde!" -- a non-mathematical example of Lang's work in making people see the facts in front of their eyes. The cause was probably people carrying a beam -- that broke the previous week.

We don't have a single straight wall in the house; periodically, the floor shifts into a new configuration. And we contribute to the chaos weekly by setting off the fire alarm, breaking dishes, losing corkscrews, etc. -- so the house's name being a quote from Alice isn't entirely a fluke.

And now I can't imagine living any other way. All the dorms I've lived in before have had a somewhat sterile character; things were safe, anything that broke was a nerve-wracking hassle. Here we barely notice it any more -- like the man whom the rabbi advised to get a donkey when his family was too loud.

As is my wont, I want to turn this into a comment about our society. People in the states tend to try to separate the "rugged life" -- camping, outdoors activities, etc., where dealing with logistical problems is part of the fun -- from their home life, which should be kept as stable and boring as possible. (Interestingly, Europe is different -- even the most lavish Paris apartments are permanently falling apart). This is the main reason people want money. There's a lot to be said about this approach. It makes sense. But we take it too far. Life without unplanned excitements involving holes, clutter, laundry, flat tires, the pursuit of free food -- is a little bit more bland. Sometimes the only thing that can tear you away from weeks of "research" turned navel gazing is a leaky sewage pipe.

So is it worth it to rush into a high-paying banking job, a house, a spouse, 2.5 kids and a subaru, or can you stomach a couple of years of the hectic, cheap life as a leech on society advertised in PhD comics? (I suspect there's a similar choice involved in other decisions that kill stability -- babies, pets, relatives...)

If you're a science graduate, the choice is entirely up to you (humanities graduates: good luck). But remember that there's good in anything with flavor, especially if that flavor comes in a little yellow packet labeled "SPICY SHRIMP".