A Cottage By Any Other Name...

 

What’s in a name? Is it really important? I suppose if your name was Andy Hitler, or Otis John Simpson, or maybe Richard Head, then perhaps you might have a stronger opinion. (Giving you a moment to ponder… wait for it… wait for it… get it now?) Don’t even get me started on the parents, whose surname is “Da,” who named their kid “Zippidy-Do.” In the immortal words of Dave Barry, I swear I am not making that up. Google it. (Or Bing it. We are equal opportunity web browsers here.)

Admittedly, I myself play the moniker manipulation game. This may come as a shock to many of you [insert dripping sarcasm here]: Goodman is not my given name. (GASP!) But… it is. True story. Goodman is my name. But it isn’t. Scratching your head yet?  Put it this way – A general rule of marketing is that people are less likely to buy something if they can’t pronounce it. Volkswagen found this out the hard way, eventually creating a self deprecating ad campaign to bolster lagging sales for the Touareg. (Tore-egg? Twarg?? Tao-reg???) If you can pronounce, for instance, the name of an author trying to sell books, then you are more likely to buy the book. Goodman, by and large, is far easier to pronounce than my true, given surname of… Well, I’ll let you ponder the fact that I am Goodman, but I am not, and see if you can figure it out.

What prompts this discussion you ask? And I know you’re asking, because no one ever really knows what triggers my thought process. It could be the rustling of the leaves, a few too many sips of coffee, or the chrome-hand-soap-dispenser-holder-thingy at Bath & Body Works that is both shiny, and has a squirrel on it. (SIDEBAR: That, right there, is like the Holy Grail for those of us with Attention Deficit Disorder… Oooooo Shiny! Wait… Squirrel!! OMG!!!! SHINY SQUIRREL!!!!!!!)

What was I saying? Oh yeah. This past week involved a great debate over an incredibly important matter facing our society today. (Those guys trying to be POTUS had a debate too, apparently.) I am, of course, referring to the difference between a cottage, and a bungalow. Why is this important? It’s not, but let’s face it: Generally the important stuff just isn’t fun. No, this was a comical conversation that involved some friends, a couple of beers, and, of course, Wikipedia. Because if it’s on Wikipedia, it must be true.

So, what is the difference between a cottage and a bungalow, you didn’t ask while pondering why you’re still reading this? (Because I’m going to say something witty, that’s why. I feel witty. Oh so witty. I feel witty, and pretty and … DAMMIT! Stop distracting me.) Well, according to Wikipedia, a cottage is “a modest, often cosy dwelling, typically in a rural or semi-rural location…. In certain places the term “cottage” can refer to a vacation/summer home, often located near a body of water.” (Editor’s note: While I know how to properly spell “cozy,” Wikipedia does not, hence the reason it is spelled incorrectly above. So suck it, Wikipedia! It is incorrect because I quoted your incorrectness. There is also another error in the quotation, which we will discuss below.)

Bungalows, on the other hand, “…were traditionally small, only one story and detached, and had a wide veranda.” Often, a bungalow could be a story-and-a-half, employing limited upstairs living space with windowed dormers on a slanted roof.

So what is the difference? I have no idea. Both are modest/cozy, small, detached, single family homes. I’m going to make an executive decision here and say if there’s no dormer, it ain’t no bungalow. So there you have it. Case closed. But…

Leave it to Wikipedia to muck things up with a simple sentence at the end of the afore-referenced definition of “cottage,” which adds: “However, in the USA generally this is more commonly called a ‘cabin, ‘chalet,’ or even ‘camp.’” (Editor’s second note: periods and commas go on the inside of quotation marks, and you use single quotation marks for quotations within quotations. Unlike the last time, I have taken the liberty of making those corrections with this quotation. Seriously, Wikipedia, get your sh*t together.)

Now what? Is it a cottage? A bungalow? A cabin? A chalet???? I’m going to make another judgment call and rule out chalet. After all, there is only one chalet, and it is the Swiss Chalet. (Dang you, American business owner who couldn’t keep a good thing going, and was forced to close all the Swiss Chalet restaurants in western New York due to poor management. Dang you all to heck! Incidentally, it takes exactly one hour and thirty-seven minutes for me to drive to the Swiss Chalet in Burlington, Ontario, Canada. Those with a passport or enhanced license are welcome to join me. Dammit. Now I want Chalet sauce.)

Oh, and Wiki-can’t-spell-or-punctuate-edia offers no real help with the definition of “cabin,” which offers cursory references to being made of wood, near water and basically says “see cottage.”

I guess the only question that remains is this: Why did I see fit to write an entire, tangent-filled blog entry about the difference between a cottage and a bungalow? Simply put, because I could. And because it was a silly conversation with friends that made me smile. And applesauce. (The applesauce is just to see how many people are now smacking their heads, wondering why they read this all the way to the end only to see me write the word “applesauce” for no reason.)

So if you enjoyed this nonsense, please comment here, or on Facebook, or by email, or wherever, with the word “applesauce,” and together we can make other people wonder what all the applesauce is about.

Epilogue: If cottage and cabin and bungalow are generally interchangeable, then why is there cottage cheese, but no bungalow cheese, or cabin cheese?

(Yes, I know I need help. Haven’t we covered that?)

© J.J. Goodman 2012. All rights reserved.