The Joke's On Me

The new furniture arrived yesterday. I fell in love with it at first sight. The Boy apparently did as well, and even The Girl pronounced it "not as bad as I thought it would look." We all sat on it and tried it out, albeit on top of the plastic sheeting in which it's still covered.

Because my furniture, for which I have been longing lo, these past three months, is sitting in the garage.

I have been down to visit several times, assuring it we are indeed not going to leave it there, that there are better plans and a better place for it, hallelujah, and it is coming soon. In the meantime, I try to hold my tongue as the remaining three home-dwellers decide that yes, we do indeed need to do at least two coats of polyurethane on the newly discovered hardwood floors in order to "make them POP!" even though the Orange Glow treatment worked for me just fine.

But I don't want floors that "POP!" I don't even want them to snap or crackle. I don't care if we have super-shiny floors. I just want my living room back, and I want it NOW. Sitting on super-shiny floors is uncomfortable. I want furniture.

In the meantime, I am up at the ungodly hour of 5:30 a.m. because thoughts of decorating permeated my sleep. I hate when that happens. I still need to purchase lamps and an area rug, we need to pick up the end tables from Mom's and get glass tops put on them. The mantel for the fireplace is being built by the same man who built the bookshelves/entertainment center, trim has to be put back up, some kind of lighting has to be decided upon, a little more sanding and painting have to occur, and the glass needs to be added to the doors of the bookshelves/entertainment center.

Really, if we tried hard enough we could drag this out into the summer months.

So it looks like I'll be visiting the furniture in "stir" for the next month or so.

Maybe we could move the television and computer down there...