The Blindness Of Proximity

It is truly amazing to me how blind a person (me) can be to the potential of her own home. Our living room has not worked well since the day we moved in. It presents a lot of challenges and we gave up early on trying to come up with a really comfortable and pretty arrangement. Mostly we gave up because a few months after moving here we were running our little store downtown which pretty much took every single drop of energy we had. The house floundered.

Of course, oatmeal and white are not colors that inspire my imagination and on some days they make me want to stab myself. This is why we ought to have ripped up the carpet and painted the house immediately. We should have known there was no way we could live with it. I see what we have achieved this week and if I was a masochistic person this would be a juicy moment to get busy hurting myself. Luckily, I don't go in for that kind of malarkey. All there is to do now is enjoy the phenomenal results.

These results, by the way, were not brought about by Philip and I and our amazing decorating skill. The color choices, the furniture, and the art are all ours, but the arrangement of our things is not always our strong point. We had to call in the professionals; my mom, and Angela. I have to admit that my feminine skills and talents took a couple of major hits yesterday. There are two things that have become very clear to me and there is not point in trying to hide it anymore:


I would never, no matter how rich I was, let someone else pick my furniture, my lighting, my paint, my art, or my tchotchkes. No one can decorate my house better than I can and I take pleasure in it. Except that when I get furniture into a room I find it excessively difficult to figure out the most amenable way to arrange it all.

The other hit I took was to my stature as a capable modern do-it-all woman. I almost buffed Philip's foot off with the big buffing machine we rented to shine up our hardwood floors. It took only moments to confirm that I cannot control a buffing machine. Philip, on the other hand, took two minutes to figure it out and claim mastery over it.

Apparently I was wrong when I believed that if I could learn to use a circular saw (I did) that I could do anything.

It doesn't look that hefty or complicated. As a matter of fact, it isn't. It's super easy to operate, in theory. However, the slightest movement of the handle up or down will send the buffer careening either left or right at top speed. It takes the tiniest tightest control to keep it steady.

Chick was suspicious of the buffer and Max thought the whole thing was ridiculous and we should have left the room exactly as it was. Where did this child come from anyway? Did I really grow him myself? He also doesn't want to get rid of the dark 1970's wood paneling in his bedroom because he likes it. Who wants to keep dark wood paneling these days?

You can see the shine Philip achieved. Can you believe that someone would cover up such a gorgeous floor with wall to wall?

(We haven't put the family pictures and the art back up yet so it's a little bit bare.)

Does anyone out there prefer the "before"s? I think the transformation is incredible. Remember last week when I was not feeling so good about my house? That's because I hadn't invited my mom and Angela over to work their crazy magic or done those things I knew I needed to do to let the energy loose in this house. It isn't just that it looks prettier now, or more like our style, it's that it flows better. Our house was experiencing energy constipation. (I'll bet you've never heard anyone use that word in relation to decorating before, huh? Just leave it to me to bring the crass into everything.)

Incidentally, some magic and change was worked in our dining room as well, but it isn't complete so I'm not going to share that until it is. I was excited this morning to wake up and see my living room; a place that actually reflects mine and Philip's taste and spirit. You can't underestimate how important that is for your daily life and mental health.