Have I told you guys before what my son believes equipped him to help me redecorate? No? Well, remember those little plastic games of the sixties that had the number squares to slide around until you got them to say one through eight or nine or whatever.. only one space to play with... He thinks my definition of furniture moving is kinda like that. Move this to move that. Move that to move that over there. It's time consuming, and I sometimes don't like the finished product and we have to move
it again. Sometimes even back to where it was! eek!
I used to move things every time I cleaned... Maybe that's why I don't love to clean like I used to?
I definitely fit into one of those categories, should I call me scattergories? I am fickle to the core. My dear one who reads astrology charts once shrieked, "No wonder you are like you are. You are two-thirds air!" Now, I'm not too certain that was considered a good thing. I was raised, I'm sure by a three-thirds earth mother. Nobody could possibly be more grounded than my mama. When it comes to furniture placement, she thought it said PLACEMENT.
I'm laughing to recall a wonderful student in my school at New Cambria who was just like me. He helped me move my classroom completely all around five times in six days. Cleverly they painted a mural on one wall that only looked in proportion from one vantage, so from that day forward, I wanted to see my mural in the best light, so I stayed in one spot. In Bevier, my superintendent once screwed my desk to the floor. Oh, yes, he did. I removed those bad boy screws the very first day. But alas! They wisely hooked me up to a very short SmartBoard cord, and I was stuck again.
If I flip through blog posts, I see I've lamented long and hard about the state of our furniture. Mom doesn't like it moved. I do. I've tried negotiating. I've tried just moving stuff. Neither one is exactly a good plan. I'm currently looking at a mantle that was mostly in place since April, and I could scream! I'm trying to rework the dining room, half-heartedly. That's the way I approach everything anyway. Lick and a promise. When I turned into THAT person, I'll never know. But I read all these blogs that gush and goo over new projects, and I think, "Yep. That was me. Where did she go? WHERE DID she go?"
Let me chat about my conundrum. I love the dining room as a dining room. I love decorating the big table, rearranging the hutches, polishing the silver and china. It's something I always thought I'd have here. Enter my silly/incredibly brilliant idea to insert a day bed. Originally, stupid girl, I planned for Mama to sleep on it. She would be closer to my bed downstairs, so I could hear her. Well, that lasted for.... guess how many nights? Yep. ZERO. She wanted to come home from her 25 day ordeal at the hospital and go to her own little bed in her own little room next to her own little bathroom. And I'm glad we did that because she is able to function and be almost independent. That is something that makes her happy. And when Mama is happy.... well, you know. Plus, praise her little socks, she knows what she wants, and that makes a total of one person in this house who does.
Besides the obvious, Where do I keep my clothes? I have lots of issues with sleeping in the dining room, as I have since December. The daybed in the dining room is pretty, I think, but it isn't all that comfy. Those of you who have ever slept on a daybed know that. I bought a nice four-inch latex topper. That helps, except about three times a night, I have to get out of bed and shove it back against the back of the wrought iron bed. I'm a wiggler, I assume. I fidget and flop, wobble, and toss... and suddenly, Voila! My butt is cold because it's almost on the ground... haha.. Well, ha ha only in the sense that it makes a funny image. Let me assure you after night after night after night, it ain't all that "ha ha"... So I had the brainstorm to bring up my other bed, which is okay. I had it at home. It's not one of those sleep number bed. It's more of a bed that has your number, if you know what I mean. Creaky. Can't hang on to the foot board or the slats fall down.. lol... Kinda lumpy, but if I remember from last December when I slept in it last, one of those lumps fits my behind kinda good. It wasn't something that I remember loving, but I sure don't remember plotting to light it on fire like I do every morning about dark-thirty o'clock when I'm cursing out a poor little daybed who looks so innocent and pretty in my window shots...
So I did the HGTV thing, and I plotted out the move on paper. Just now I've dumped the tops of several things to move. Then little nasty images of cool ways to use these tables pop into my brain. Do I want to sleep in a room that's visible from the front door most of the time? Do I want to sleep here with all the china and hutches. No, Tessa.. lol... I can't move this stuff to my dad's room because it's the fullest room in the house. I need to down size, but that isn't happening because ...
Um... well... Maybe one day soon it will, but not this month.
You know. I think I'll give sleeping downstairs another shot. I mean, who wouldn't want to tromp up five stairs fifty five times a night to go to the restroom? I loved being so far away from the action. I loved a lot about that room. Right now, we robbed it of its air conditioner, so we are at the mercy of the company who promised we were first on the list over a week ago. Have I mentioned how much I hate adulting? I don't like to adult. Who let me adult anyway?
Have you ever watched Fixer Upper on HGTV? I love that show. Did you see the episode of Chip's 40th birthday surprise? I loved that. For one thing, it would be fun to have someone to surprise like that. For another, to not be pretty dang sure he'd die in a helicopter ride if I planned it? Yeah, pretty sure that's my problem because of Mom... but Fear Factor is more my mantra than I'd like to have it. Then to get a party together out side with all those lights and with the tables and candles... a band... and to have pie with little labels on chalk... and one of those pies was called Wicked Pie... I want to have an outdoor picnic with lights and candles, kind of like that or like Cassie's from The Good Witch. I want to have my desserts labeled. I want to have one called Wicked Pie...
and I kinda just want a good night's sleep... or a big nap.
See. This is why I don't know where to put anything... Sensory overload? Imagination overburn? Frustration.... haha.. I asked my son sincerely if he ever thought how difficult it was for me to live here. "Huh?" he said. I laughed and repeated the question. He just made his sweet smile into a straight line mouth like he used to as a little boy... "Um... No, Mama. Never think about it." haha..
Then he added. "You shouldn't either." Wow. Why didn't I think of that?
THE BEST CAT EVER... My Sally.
Whimsy and Hugs!