I know that symbolically, fall is supposed to be a time of harvest, followed by death, but I always see it as a time of renewal, probably because many of us have to retreat into our houses in the winter, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to go quietly into a dirty and cluttered one.
Today I decided to move my bedroom around until it was more to my liking. It made the whole thing feel bigger, which is a good thing now that my true love and BFF Hester Prynne is up here. I like the fact that I moved a bit further away from the box, which I can still hear a little when she’s in sleep mode. (For Vista, there is no sleep, only WAIT.) But in this neighborhood, a little white noise is a good thing.
Come into my boudoir! Je voudrais un croissant! If this goes well, you can meet my parents next.
Before!
Here’s the bed before, tucked up against the east wall. The Bandito and Imelda lurked overhead. I never really liked them together like this; it was a little too Dejeuner sur l’Herbe for my liking. I was in the process of taking down an old and faded Dios de los Muertos paper cutout that I got downtown. The black squares were so light they turned that grody brown color that my coolio black jeans used to turn in the ’90s, making me all sad panda. Yes, my bed is a mess, but in my defense I knew I was about to move it. Yes, I know that my house looks like it was decorated by clowns on LSD. We LIKE color, mmkay?
After!
I turned the bed to be against the north wall. This made more space in the middle of the room. I also turfed out one of the nightstands and put it next to Hester Prynne, which sort of hides the cords. I like it. Aren’t you supposed to face north, according to those those juju feng shui peoples? Whatever. I likes a change of pace. Now I have just the bandito over my head, as it should be. He is my patron saint.
On the table, not that you asked, is this week’s New Yorker, Sophie’s World, which I am rereading for the third time, Are You Really Going to Eat That?, which looked great at the library but feels very been-there, done-that once you dive in. WOT, people eat durians you say? And they are super stinky, you say? To the author’s credit, they are older essays, from before the era of being a click away from reality show models narfling dog stew. She actually writes an interesting blog, I must say. Also there is a rented Curious George DVD, which Strudel is currently partaking in and enjoying very much.
Before!
Here’s Hester’s newish home. It turns out you can put baby in the corner. Notice the sad, sickly, and neglected arrowhead plant over the computer. The pot is so large that it made it hard to hang up a picture in that corner. I trimmed off the dead leaves and gave it a little shower to get rid of the dust, and popped it into the girls’ room, which gets more sun, and stole their philodendron.
After!
I moved Imelda to the south wall so I can gaze upon her lovely boobsage first thing in the a.m. I can stare at her while I am trying to think of what to write next.
I am kind of chuckling as I’m posting this, because I think about those fancy bloggers who make changes in their house and photograph it all and run it through special filters so it looks like a fucking home decor magazine. At my house you have wires and clutter, and nothing that looks like it came from Crate & Barrel, because nothing did. More like, Cardboard Box & and Barrel Made Out of Cardboard Printed with a Barrel Pattern. Oh, and IKEA, so same diff, really. Tomorrow I will clean off the top of my dresser at least, and photograph it with shimmery burning candles and moody wicker balls in a hand blown glass basket made by armless peasants in Madagascar.
