On October 25, we will be living in our house for five years. As of last night, we have our first fully adult furnished room. By “fully adult furnished”, I mean that we purchased, instead of inheriting, furniture that did not require little tools and that all looks, if not the same, at least, similar. This weekend’s life changing event all began in March of 2006. We had cleaned out our sunroom and thought about what we wanted to do with the living room. Our living room felt cramped and small. The television armoire we had purchased prior to moving into the house towered over everything else in the room, nearly touching the ceiling. It sat mockingly in the middle of the room. It even uttered the occasional fee fie foe fum at me. We bought one that had doors to hide the television because we thought that would make the room dressier when we had company. We were wrong. We closed the doors a sum total of about five times in the last five years. Namely, four Christmases and one other party. However, we were fussy about what we wanted in a new TV stand. It needed to have enough room to fit a cable box, DVR, Xbox and VCR. It needed to have doors to keep the dogs from eating said electronics. The doors needed to be glass so that we could change channels and play DVDs via remote without opening the doors. It needed to be not too long but not too short. It needed to be a dark reddish/mahogany color to match our apothecary coffee table from Pottery Barn which was one of our two pieces of non-hand-me-down furniture and a particular pride and joy. After eighteen months of searching through Ikea catalogs, Pottery Barn sales, and looking at entertainment centers wherever we went, some universal being of home makeovers intervened. At BJs Wholesale Wharehouse on Thursday, I found it. In all of its splendiforous glory . Even better? At BJs it was $250 less than it retails for.
Saturday was spent dismantling the monstrosity we previously owned. Piece by miserable piece, we took it apart. First the doors, then the back, then the sides. Miserable fee fie foe fumming monstrosity. Not realizing that the new entertainment center was already assembled, we prepared ourselves for the cursing and yelling and banging that usually accompanies furniture assembly. Note: All said grunting/cursing/banging is done by DH who refuses to let me help him when he gets frustrated. Miraculously, the entertainment center was fully assembled. Apparently, the caption on the box pronouncing “Real Furniture” should have alerted us to this pleasant surprise. We dragged it into the house and attempted to reconnect all the electronics. First try, everything worked, but the DVR remote didn’t change the channels. Second try, nothing worked. We broke down and called our good friend Doug who was willing to help out in a pinch, although I accidentally scared the bejeepers out of him by asking for help in such a timid manner that he thought someone had died. Poor guy.
This is what the new entertainment center looked like:
It looks lonely, doesn’t it? See that bookshelf to the left? It was an Ames (a store which is now defunct) specialty from eight years ago with one side starting to become unattached. See that side table to the right? It was inherited from an elderly relative. See all those things that seem to have no purpose sitting on both of them? They’re covered in dust. Lots of dust. I hate to dust. It’s…dusty and sneezy. However, the sadness of the new entertainment center emanated from it, begging us to bring it new friends who’d play nice. DH and I had a gift certificate to Pottery Barn. We looked on the Pottery Barn website, but end tables there are ex-pen-SIVE (as well as large). I started to look at Pier 1 Imports, but the website is a pain. DH, however, persevered. We found the Chili Tables online. DH suggested we run over there, after all it’s only ten minutes from the house. So, we booked it over there. Two floor samples, pre-assembled and ready to go. Only three total tables in the whole store, one of which needed to be put together. We paid and chucked them into the back of the PT Cruiser unceremoniously. We went across the street to the local mall, had some dinner, and went to Pottery Barn. We walk in and again, the universal being of home makeovers granted us another miracle. There, sitting, waiting to be taken away was the most perfect bookshelf ever. Dark wood to match what we already had. Beautiful. Better yet? On. Sale. I swear there was a halo of light emanating from it drawing us in. Again, we bought it. DH called MiL who thankfully drove her SUV over to help us bring the bookshelf home. I drove home ahead of them, let the dogs out, and emptied out the old bookshelf.
For the first time in our married life, we can look around our living room and actually say, “This is how we want it to look. We are adults.” We have left behind all college furniture. Almost all the freebies are gone from this room. Things match, or at least they match well enough to look like the effect was intended (as it is) instead of unintended. Our tiny little living room feels like it is twice the size. We are grownups. We are no longer children. We have dressed our home for the life we want to live here. It’s amazing what a little furniture can do.
Here is the living room now:
Doesn’t the entertainment center look happier with its new friends? And those lamps? Love them. Not handed down but wheedled out of my father. He’s awesome.
As for knitting, I have been baby(blanket) making these days. Once again, I’ve gotten to work on this project for my friend. I keep thinking that the more I work on it, the sooner I’ll be done with it, and the less I will think about procreation in my own life. But, alas, nope. This is too bad. The more I make this wee little blanket, the more I think about how it would feel to make one for a baby of my own. Even worse? Since the majority of it is mindless stockinette, I have a LOT of time to think about all of this. A lot. Thank goodness that by the end of tonight, I’ll be 75% done with it. It’s soft. I’ll grant it that. The mom will appreciate the hand knit quality of it. The kid will probably barf all over it since that’s what babies do. Of course, that’s presuming that I finish it before he goes off to college. The alpaca is making me sneezy and keeps getting fuzz all over my clothes. Since the little fellow hasn’t been born yet, there’s a chance, slim though it may be, that if he’s a week late in arrival, the blanket will be ready for him when he gets here. I know that making the blanket is making me think about all the “ifs” that go along with babies. I think that once this is done, I’ll hopefully be less intense about it. Maybe not. However, here’s to hoping! And here’s how it looks so far:
So, I guess that makes me a grown up. New furniture, baby blankets and all.
