I've spent the last month and a half reoccupying my old house. My one bedroom apartment felt a touch overlarge, but owing to the real estate market being in the pooper I'm now living in a place a touch over three times as big. Perfect for your starter family. Or fortress of solitude.
I've since warmed to the project. Been buying furniture, painting some and attaining some order, only to rip it apart again to paint another room. The place has frequently felt like a violently shaken ant farm. I've experienced varying degrees of resentment over the various detritus left by my ex (like the wedding dress. sigh), but I've since realized that all this stuff can be coped with by goodwill and the garbage rather effectively. I've taken a certain glee in getting rid of stuff. Ancient cables in piles in the closet? gone! old blankets I don't particularly like? gone! ten thousand ugly coffee mugs? gone!
I'm realizing that part of the giddy joy of the experience is that I don't have to negotiate this with anyone. Not that we ever fought over this stuff, but for some reason I stopped, or never even started, trying to make the space somehow 'mine'.
I've started to think about what I'm going to put on my walls. I ordered a nice canvas print of a turner online yesterday. The thing is going to be friggin' huge. 44 inches across with the frame. I had measured that out before, but after clicking the 'yes, please bill me for this' button I pulled out my tape measure and was a bit shocked. My rooms are big by nyc standards, but they're not huge. This thing is going to dominate the room. I think that will be ok.
a mess,
but it is mine.
4 comments:
I admire you.
I admire your writing, and I admire your choice of decor.
There is a 40% chance having that picture dominate your room will drive you totally freaking insane.
Or it will soothe me. Remember, I'm the sort that finds Blood Meridian to be a deep source of solace.
Let it soothe, but for God's sake, don't lean on it. It may suck you into an alternate dimension.
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