Redecorating

Redecorating is stressful: trying to decide on the right colors for the sofa that go with the wall color…that you haven’t painted yet, and then finding the exact rug that will tie it all together.

All this planning takes me back to the days right after I married into the family of 4 teenagers. I had been single and had a beautiful white brocade couch accented with two over stuffed chairs in pale yellow. A beautiful crystal chandelier hung over the chrome and glass dining room table. Really perfect unless you have kids hanging around on it.

The rude awakening began when I came in one day and a greasy, nasty, messy, oily, motor sat in the middle of the table. It caught my attention because it just didn’t fit with the chandelier. I just stood there, trying to get my breath, gulping for air so I could shriek at the top of my lungs.

I calmly stormed out to the garage, attempting to remain rational, so I could understand why in the world a motor had been plopped down where we would soon sit to eat.

“What is that on the dining table?” I asked in a voice that was pitched two octaves above my normal tone.

“It’s the lawn mower motor,” was the reply. “Why is it there?” I queried. “I had to put it somewhere while I worked on it.” Perfectly logical to a 14 year old. Not so clear to the owner of the chrome and glass table!

It did make me reconsider the house décor. When I walked back into the house, I took a look around and realized my white sofa was now dingy brown, and the yellow chairs were less than pristine.

The next day I took everything to an upholstery shop and had it all covered in dark brown fabric. I put a plastic table cloth over the glass table, and it was 12 years before I saw the glass top again. The last time I saw that sofa, it was still brown!

In decorating books, that is called ‘Decorating by Necessity’. I didn’t care if the carpet matched the tablecloth, or if the chairs complemented the walls. All I wanted was to make the house livable for six people and a dog, without me freaking out about keeping things perfect.

To this day I don’t understand disassembling a motor on the dining table, but I do understand the grey hair that I proudly cover up with hair coloring. Do you think those kids would understand receiving a bill for my hair care, since it was most certainly caused by ugly furniture and smelling motor fumes?