Published by Tamara on 28 Feb 2007
When I was kid I didn’t do much furniture rearranging. My collection of stuffed animals, hundreds of books and kitten posters were rearranged, but the furniture pretty much stayed put. My parents gave me really heavy furniture and I was not a very tidy child. I stuffed things under the bed, the closet was overflowing and I had an active imaginary life. I think I’ve told you about the Barbies. Poor Barbies.
I had friends who, pretty much every week, would rearrange their room. It seemed so natural for them. I was always surprised they could do it. Without even a second thought, a dresser that was once on one wall, was now on another. A bed that once had the foot facing the window, now had it facing the door. They were the rearrangers. I sometimes was enlisted to help them rearrange. It was exciting. When they moved their bed, ten thousand hidden and forgotten things didn’t get revealed, usually it was just a lip gloss or a sock - not a half filled journal discussing their lack of boobs or even an embarrassing pair of dirty underwear. Just a fashionable little sock with a pompom or a sparkly tube of gloss.
On Monday, Louie brought home two gigantic IKEA bookshelves that we have been coveting. We had scoped them online, then actually made a trip to IKEA to see them in person, then he found someone with a big enough car to transport them, and finally we spent Monday evening assembling them. We had made the executive decision to turn our dining room into a library. We made a very George W. Bush decision in doing so - ill-informed, under-researched, and badly planned. With both shelving units assembled and in place and Louie’s ratty old chair hovering under the window, it looked like something out of a scary movie. A scary movie where a guy sits in a ratty chair under a window and is surrounded by the heads and penises of his victims artfully displayed on gigantic IKEA shelves. It was clear the dining room was meant for only one thing - a place for me to throw my unopened mail. It was also clear we were either going to have to disassemble the shelves and return them to IKEA, or find another place for them. Both options were daunting.
Louie doesn’t like bookshelves in the bedroom. I think this has something to do with him being raised in Beverly Hills where little children are taught that reading is not sexy and one should never encourage reading in the sex room. Guess where the only room with enough wall space for our new book shelves is? The sex room! It should also be noted that Louie’s sensibility for decorating is still undetermined. He usually is skeptical about my ideas at first, tells me he doesn’t like clutter (plants equal clutter to him…I think?) and then I do whatever I want and hope he doesn’t break up with me. It’s fun!
So we both spent a few moments at our respective computers seething about the ridiculous shelves from IKEA that we had so carefully purchased - just like George W. Bush carefully went to war with Iraq, and I finally came up with an idea so bold… it just might work. Rearrange the office! Louie sort of hated my idea at first. I told him the desk would have to move, and his immediate idea was to move it into the dining room. I balked because that’s where the desk used to be, and I hated it there. So finally we got the tape measurer out and figured out our plan, and guess what, we’re rearranging the office this weekend. Which means I get to clean baseboards. I love cleaning baseboards. Not as much as the goldfish (update on their health tomorrow) but I do love doing it. It’s so completely satisfying.
It also means the stacks and stacks of porn I’ve been hiding behind the old bookshelves will have to be moved. Since they aren’t allowed in the bedroom, due to the no books in the bedroom rule, I guess they’ll have to go where they have always thought they belonged - the dining room.