The end of summer (well, of MY summer, anyway) is hoving into view, and it's time to reassess my progress on the Getting Sh!t Together Tour of twenty-thirteen. My organizational efforts are slowly getting to a point where I feel real progress has been made. Don't get me wrong, there are still plenty of piles of things around here to trip over; there are just fewer piles and they are more spread out than they were a few weeks ago. In fact, if it weren't for an Unfortunate Incident involving a certain dog of my acquaintance, a digestive upset, and our very best rug, I'd say things were looking better than usual. Good enough, in fact, that I can start turning my attention to some other areas of my life that could use a little upkeep.
First up is the house. When we moved here six years ago, I had left one job five weeks before and was starting a new one six weeks later. I had a 10 month old creeper, a three year old with an iron will, and a neurotic cat threatening to run away on a regular basis. EI was in such a state, I neither knew nor cared if I was moving into Versailles or a refrigerator box, as long as I had walls and a roof and TV reception to keep the kids occupied regularly now and again. Right before we moved in, we did the work that absolutely had to be done - we had the rotted-out nylon carpet pulled up and replaced, painted a few rooms here and there, and called it good. Since then, we've made a few additional shuffles, but aside from redoing the guest bedroom downstairs (more rotten carpet) and painting a room for India, we haven't done much. Oh wait, we (by which I mean Warren) installed some Ikea bookshelves that look kindasorta built-in. Other than that, not much else.
I have made no secret of the fact that our decorating philosophy is driven more by convenience than style - well, convenience, and a heaping help of New-England-frugality-guilt (If you are unfamiliar with that brand of guilt, go look at a new big-ticket item, like an armchair, in a store. If a little voice in your head starts saying things like, 'you have a perfectly good chair at home, just because you don't like that particular style of chair doesn't mean you should just get rid of it,' that's New England frugality guilt.). That is why our house is furnished in a melange of Ikea, dead relations, and secondhand. After six years in the house, I'm at the point where that's not cutting it anymore. What we have is fine, but it's just....fine. Nothing exciting. Take the curtains I've been looking at in this living room for the past 72 months, for example. We asked the sellers to leave the window hardware and curtains because even the thought of trying to shop, choose, and install new curtains with a baby and a preschooler was enough to make me hyperventilate. They left basic white, tab-top curtains, which...eh. I can't even summon up the energy to think of the necessary adjectives to describe them. Wait, I've got one: Adequate. They're .... adequate. They get the job done. They go from the floor to the curtain rod and don't fall down. They don't clash with the mushroom-y greige'ish color the previous owners painted all the main living spaces, so they'll do.
Well, I'm tired of living with stuff that's just okay, and that I didn't pick out in the first place. So the first order of business is going to be to sit down with the spouse, make a list of all the things we'd like to update about this place, and then laugh hysterically at our champagne-tastes/water-budget ideas. Then maybe I can get him to pick a couple things off the list we can reasonably accomplish in a relatively short time span (translation: any time before I die), and we can bring this house kicking and screaming into this decade. Maybe we'll even get it done before the next decade rolls around!