As you know, living in a box decorated with boxes wasn’t easy for me. I felt overwhelmed and claustrophobic and before I knew it I was curled up in a ball in the middle of what soon would be my living room, crying. I wasn’t sure if I should be worried that I was being too dramatic (probably) or what Josh would have thought if he walked in on this not so hot messy breakdown. I needed someone else to come in and save me from being fully swallowed by these brown walls of cardboard that, no matter how many I unpacked or how many I moved from one side of the room to the other, continued to stack. You would think I was moving Daddy Warbucks mansion into a 600 sq. ft. apartment with the amount of boxes in our living room alone. But luckily my mommy was only a phone call away and her design expertise and anal retentive behavior was just what I needed to calm my worries.
The second she got there it was as if all the boxes ran away and everything had a rightful place. It all started to make more sense. This needed to go here and that needed to hang there and these needed to be put under there! It was A-MAZ-ING. I will be indebted to her for saving my life that day, because if I had to live in what was slowly becoming an insane asylum, I would have personally checked myself in. Once she left, things happened. Things got put away, boxes disappeared…and not just disappeared from one corner and reappeared in the other…they were gone. Things were on the shelves, in baskets, put away in closets. And the best part, the bookshelves were finally put up and all our random crappy things could finally be displayed! Of course, everything is black, but at least they’re not cardboard or brown. Everything is ready to be DIY’d…and like a kid on Christmas or a fat man at a buffet, I cannot wait.
(You can tell my mom has been here. Until I was 23 my mom would get me a doll on Christmas, she just couldn’t help herself ie: my childhood pumpkin teddy bear display)
What would have been a very chaotic and stressful process for Josh was a very calming and somewhat therapeutic experience for me. He loves to call me one, but it has become clear that the kid doesn’t seem to understand what being a “perfectionist” really means; as if the dirty clothes thrown on the chest in the living room or inability to look for anything if it is not in the last place he saw it, don’t prove that already. Everyday he is asking me where things are, without even looking. He makes it difficult by not embracing our crap actually being organized. Because if I hadn’t moved around (or also known as organized) his things, they would still be in the trunk of his car. He likes to relax…a lot…and when we’re relaxing, if there is a crooked picture frame within my eyesight, I’ll stare at it until I find the perfect time to get up and fix it without seeming as if I had been staring at it the entire time. This then prompts me to nonchalantly pick up the papers on the desk next to the picture, forcing me to dust the table casually and then I can relax. Josh’s idea of organizing is that he’ll get to it tomorrow.
But thanks to the anal eye of Mama Haynie, I got ‘er done! And surprisingly, so did Josh. He finally bought a couch that didn’t break our very small piggy bank and that I actually approve of. But at this point I would have approved of anything that 2 people could comfortably sit on without hugging their knees. See THIS was our temporary seating area…for 3 weeks! If you didn’t before, now you must feel my pain.
And thanks to Josh, it actually feels like home. It’s a work in progress, but this is our living room. the “real” after coming soon!
AHHHH I know, I can practically hear your sigh of relief, and NO we are not keeping those pillows. I wanted something more neutral, but since I figured he would go buy the first fluffy couch he could comfortably nap on regardless of color or style, when he came home with this it might as well have been a couch from Buckingham Palace, I was so thrilled. Now it actually looks like someone that wasn’t on an episode of “Hoarders” lives here.
In the midst of dealing with an emerging breakdown, working and worrying have actually done a few things to add some personal touches to our humble abode. Other than getting rid of boxes, I have already gone through a bottle and a half of white and gold spray paint painting pretty much any and everything I could get my hands on. Mostly my things, since Josh hasn’t let me near his precious items (just to name a few there is a Volcom Stone piggy bank he made in high school wood shop, an Angels baseball team russian doll, a bike horn…clearly priceless items).
(too bad I can’t spray paint the pinkish carpet with wood floors)
I have hung our gallery wall.
(can you tell which pictures are Josh’s?)
But he really can’t complain about my spray paint binge or pink picture frames because…
there he is. The first thing you see when you walk in…The Sasquatch himself (for now anyways).
We’re almost there, just a few fine details that apparently only a “perfectionist” cares about and the living room is done! And next up is the bedroom
Not sure what to make of the elephant in the room…or rather the bread box in the bedroom… but if I can’t figure it out, you know Mama Haynie will be able too. Once my bank account goes up a few more thousand dollars, it’s Container Store all day every day!
At least for now everything has a place. And it’s only a matter of time before I’m complaining more about Josh leaving his pants in the kitchen and dirty plates in the bedroom and less about boxes, lack of storage and my crazy unrealistic expectations in general. Ahhh…one day.
Luckily ’tis the season for BevMo‘s .5 wine-o sale and my lovely live in beau brought home 6 bottles of the juice. And even though my mom says not to drink out my problems, sometimes it’s time for chardonnay time.
WISH ME LUCK and more to come!!
Happy chardonnay time…and as always Happy Renting!