Dear Reader,
This house is a beast not easily satisfied. You paint a hall, she asks what you’re going to do about the lighting situation. You change the batteries in the hall light, she asks if you are really going to leave those curtains up? You tell her you have different curtains, you just have to dig them out, she says…
Well, you get the picture.
This morning Word Raccoon and I, my beloved writing pal/menace, plotted on the porch. Not a novel, no, no, but Things to Do Today. Alas, poetry is still asking for more house improvements before she returns to my fingertips.
We began by putting a small basket of books on a (not the painted one) bookshelf, falling for each book all over again as we held it in our hands, wondering if it is socially acceptable to hug them, because we absolutely were.
We also came up with more adorable ideas for the door edges, but I’ve convinced WR that we ought to wait until it’s a bit warmer if we’re going to have to leave the doors open for a time. (No, I’m not telling you until I can show you! But we are SO EXCITED! 😀)
Here’s what else we managed:
We replaced the burned-out bulbs in the porch light strands and took down the Christmas lights while we were at it. The porch already feels calmer and brighter somehow.
We are currently engineering a dishwasher skirt because apparently the internet would like fifty dollars for one and absolutely not. We are experimenting with Velcro and a mushroom-covered tablecloth. Because why not?
We packed up the china on the porch. It’s pretty and we do use it occasionally, but I know where the garage is if I need it.
I did keep aside half the set for when we have company.
We wallpapered the painted bookshelf and then spent an absurd amount of time touching up the trim and arguing with shelf brackets. Alas, we are not professional furniture painters and it shows, but honestly? I think she turned out cheerful and charming anyway.
We shopped the house for a basket deep enough to conceal ugly utility items on the porch because the previous basket was exposing cords and WR was threatening to toss the whole thing. She does not do ugly.
I also hunted the house for a frame for a little painting I found at our local thrift shop last week for, I think, fifty cents. I haven’t tried to read the signature yet because I kind of like letting it reveal itself bit by bit, though I am endlessly curious and it just makes me happy to look at.
It’s on wood, and WR and I LURVE paintings on panels. Why do they look so much richer?
I found a frame to protect it for now, though it’s a little too large. Still, it already feels happier framed. Some things just want to know they’re being cared for.
And somehow, amidst all the ladders, paint, wallpaper scraps, and Oreos, WR and I still found time to sit on the porch this morning with a cup of tea and enjoy the breeze as it wandered through, raising our hair and our spirits.
Ah, what a treat.
The happiest of holidays to you, Dear Reader. As for us, WR is campaigning to go see The Devil Wears Prada 2. I wouldn’t say no to that.
Drema
P.S. I think poetry might be appeased at last because I have written two poems tonight, and more seem imminent.
dremadrudge.com 