The other night during a photo shoot with Jade Pearl, she turned to me at one point and said, “This is like a grown-up’s house.”
And it was. Standing in his living room, I could survey the condition and contents of our photographer Halo’s house and tell without knowing him that an adult lived there. A real live adult who had finished decorating. Unpacked all his boxes. He had bought furniture. Cleaned house regularly. And I would be willing to bet all his light bulbs worked.
I feel like that’s the sort of place I should be at by now in my life. I have a daughter, a more than adult (as in boring but with salary and benefits) job, and I even bought my own car last year. I’ve graduated from college. I reasonably know some course I’d like my life to take even if I don’t know the locations or exact methodology yet. I’m paying off student loans, and I have a tolltag. I’ve been married and I pay all my bills online. This means I’ve arrived in the land of furniture that matches and dishes that are clean, right? Right?
As I finally begin unpacking today, after moving in over a week ago, I don’t feel like I’m an adult. I don’t have measuring cups. The two sets of matching glasses that I own both have three rather than four. And even though I have no proper cutting knives to speak of, I do have three bottle openers. My pots and pans are all wrong, and I’m now terrified to progress into the living room. Suffice it to say that my mismatched linens, hand-me-down bookshelves, and mess of lingerie and heels in need of a home are growing more daunting as the day progresses.
Every time I move to a new place, I make a new resolution. This is the time I’m going to actually decorate and stick with it until it actually occurs. This time, the dusting isn’t going to get out of hand, and I’m going to mop once a week. This time, I’m going to make my personal space somewhere I’m happy to be.
I don’t know that it will happen this time. But wish me luck. Just don’t send it in a box.
(By the way, Miss Jade and I were shooting for our upcoming session of Dr. Sketchy’s in Denton. More details (and pictures) to come! I'll also be pictorially recapping from Gifts and Garters very soon...I just need to make some space first.)
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If it makes you feel any better, my home sounds very similar (minus the mess of lingerie and heels).
ReplyDeleteYou and I have the same resolutions about our living spaces. *nod*
ReplyDeleteBut I enjoy my stack of moving boxes since last May behind the door! I'm a grownup and I can have them there if I want! Great post:)
ReplyDeleteI'm an interior re-designer and I've been working on my house ever since I moved in 5 years ago. And each time I've gotten a room to where I'm happy, I almost immediately feel like I've done that and now it needs to change. As Leroy Roper was discussing with me last night, it's not the journey, it's the destination; and if and when you reach the summit you must then turn around and start climbing some other mountain!
ReplyDeleteHoney, I'm almost 39, I have a son going to Navy boot camp in July, another son about to graduate high school, a job, a car, and my house looks like 4 teenagers live in it...I think I may have mopped the bathroom floor a year ago and the last time I mopped the kitchen floor was only because I spilled an entire 2 liter bottle of soda, the only person who dusts is my Dillon because he is a clean freak...And the laundry is always in various stages of being done...I guess what I'm trying to say is, don't fucking worry about it.
ReplyDeleteYeah, you gotta keep it cleanish because you have a wee one, but it doesn't really matter...As long as you and your baby are happy, who cares that your pots and pans are mitch-matched!
Very true, Ms. Renee. I just wish Martha would quit making it so hard on me. ;)
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