See what I mean!

I live in a barn.

Now, that you’ve read that, what images come to mind? A literal barn, perhaps, with horses, chickens and goats? Or a messy house?

All of you who are at least thirty-five, maybe forty, hearken back to the days when you were living at home with your Mom, and then answer the question.

That’s right. I live in a barn has a different connotation. It is a metaphor for shutting a door left open.

Normally, the door in question leads to the outside. In my case, however, it doesn’t have to be the front or back door, or even the garage door.

Cupboards, drawers, lids—these are the open ‘doors’ I’m fighting against constantly.

The main idea here is, you get the metaphor.

In contemplating the symbolism of shutting open doors, I naturally came to another metaphor. Shutting an open door can also be construed as turning your back on an opportunity.

Like burning bridges. I avoid burning bridges, but yet I shut doors on a regular basis.

Here we go again!

Now, I think we can all agree, unless you’re in a war, and the bridge holds a tactical advantage to the enemy, and less so to you, you don’t burn a bridge. However, there is nothing inherently wrong with shutting a door. In fact, a lot of times it’s good to do. It keeps the cool air in, the warm air out, or vice-versa, depending on the season. It keeps out flies, bees, and some other unwanted houseguests that aren’t nearly as wily as spiders.

Depending on the neighborhood you live in, it can keep out the two-legged undesirables, too.

And of course, there’s the privacy issue. Most doors are solid, and they keep prying eyes focused elsewhere.

That’s why you’re more likely to hear, “You make a great door!” than you are to hear, “You make a great window!”

I close doors, drawers and lids, though, to reduce the accident factor. I do this, despite the fact that it’s very rarely me who runs into them. Mostly, the culprit is the one who gets the knock on the noggin or the dent in the shin.

You’d think after a few times of running into open cupboards or drawers, that the culprit would learn to shut them after use. Apparently, the damage done each time is not akin to burning your hand on a stove, or shocking yourself in an outlet. Or nearly drowning. Those, if you survive, tend to be life altering experiences, that can lead to phobias on the one hand, or a healthy respect and caution on the other.

Call me an enabler, but I’d rather no one get hurt. Don’t get me wrong, I’m in favor of tough love, but in this case, it just leads to whining and complaining (though, thankfully, not a doctor’s visit), so in addition to avoiding bumps and bruises, there is the small order of my sanity involved.

That, and the fact that some people are just naturally predisposed to bang their head against the wall. Over, and over, and over again.

Metaphorically speaking, of course.