February was a house remodeling month at the home he and Mom own in Dundee. (It was a good time to do so, as Mom was gone for most the month in Guam, many thousands of miles out of the way of remodeling.) I hadn't been to their house since Christmas, so I knew to expect rearranged house stuff. I knew he'd rebuilt a wall in the main floor living room to accommodate a gas fireplace, bookshelves and a TV. I'd forgotten he'd completely rearranged the downstairs bathroom/laundry room, to be part of a bedroom suite. So now there's a direct connection between the lower-floor bedroom and that increasingly nice bathroom, instead of going around a corner to get from one to the other.
And a door is gone where one had been and a door exists where one wasn't before.
Reminded me of a time my brother and I got the programming for a text adventure game, written in BASIC that's how old it was, set in a house. And we rewrote it to have a door where there shouldn't be one, to more easily get into a secret room. (I do think we did this after we'd solved the game, so it was no longer cheating at that point.) Hey, there should be a pathway here: okay, now there it is! Which discounts all of the work Dad did to move fixtures from one part of the bathroom to another so he could fit fixtures in different places and thus allow that new door, and otherwise make the space down there nicer, but it just somehow seems more elegant to imagine that it just snapped into existence.
My mind works that way.
It didn't blow my mind so much that it kept me from relaxing, either. Mom and Dad's house is a very relaxing place. And we had extra family (cousins from nearby Dayton and not-nearly-nearby Olympia, WA) visiting, so that added to the incentive to go out there. And not be online, which is why I'm only posting now, a day-and-a-half after I last posted.
If doors changed places in my current apartment where I currently am, I'd be mighty surprised. Or dreaming.