The last time I actually liked our back room, known as the playroom but pronounced playloom, it looked like this:
|That's the couch where Ellie and Bill spent many, many, many nights.|
That couch is long gone, as is the carpet and that funny little tv meant to plug into one's car. The desk, the tray tables, the wooden shelf you can just see the edge of in the foreground, and the curtains that my mother in law made while I was in the hospital birthing that ballerina? Those things stayed long past their welcome in the playloom.
|Hate. Not you, honey. Hi Bill!|
I'd try to overhaul it every once in a while, purging and cleaning and throwing away the literal piles of trash that were always everywhere. It was never enough.
The room needed to be sorted out properly, which in my mind could only be done in one way. I designated three collection areas:
|Poor Dumb Bastard|
Until we were all dug out
|You should have heard my girl scolding me as I literally pulled this piece apart in my relentless haste to drag it out the door. She's no fun.|
I thought we settled on a nice light-ish shade of charcoal gray, but it is blue. Nothing but blue.
|It's a nice blue. But it's blue. This was before touch up/second coat, shoosh.|
To class up this dump
And just as the story gains excitement and momentum, we stalled.
There were lots of big distractions with a side order of lazy procrastination.
|We did manage to dispose of the TOSS pile, and the DONATE pile won't be picked up until June 10.|
Damn this perfect San Diego weather!
to be continued.....