You Say Hoosier Like It’s a Bad Thing

hoosier: n. any awkward, unsophisticated person, especially a rustic.


I’m not sure if this is always true; but here in St Louis, you aren’t a redneck, you’re a hoosier. And we don’t mean a person from Indiana. That’s Hoosier, with a capital H.
I never claimed to be elegant and sophisticated. I enjoy a disgusting fast food hamburger as much as a nice dinner at the Melting Pot.

Okay. That’s not entirely true. I enjoy the Melting Pot far more; however, there are days when only a Steakburger from Stack ‘n Shack will satisfy. And I draw the line at White Castle. I will never ever eat there again after they gave me cheese fries when I asked for a Sprite. No lie. And it was gross.

But the day I realized I might be a bit of a hoosier was when we put the plastic over our windows.

The joy of living in a hundred-year old house – in addition to the fact that it leans slightly to one side – is the complete lack of insulation. Seriously. Put your hand against one of the walls and you can feel how cold it is outside. Oh and the rehabbers who did such a wonderful job (sarcasm) also didn’t put up double-paned windows, they stuck with the cheap and single-paned job that has probably been up for many many years. Um, hi. We live in a city which reaches the single digits in the winter and the triple digits in the summer, are you idiots?

Well, we haven’t been able to replace them yet because there were more pressing concerns – ie the cracked joists in our roof and the crumbling chimneys – but we had to come up with some sort of temporary solution so we didn’t freeze in the winter or run up a ridiculous electric bill. Hence the plastic sheets. They work. Really. Unfortunately, our basement/bedroom window was too cold to adhere directly to the window itself, so it is attached to the wall. Also, unfortunately, I have dumb cats. Who tried to jump up there and punched a hole in the plastic. Did we put up a new sheet? No, we fixed it with duct tape.

Okay, maybe when we fixed it with duct tape did I realize we were a hoosiers. But that’s not a bad thing. And at least Brian doesn’t mow the lawn in nothing but a wife beater and jorts like our neighbor. Now that’s hoosier.
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About Kirsten

Wife, mother, writer and all around knerd. Maker of cookies, scarves and really big messes.

Posted on March 5, 2010, in Musings and tagged . Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.

  1. That's cuz I don't mow the lawn at all!

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