I’m back in let’s-fix-this mode which means I’m officially in the “getting there” stage of decorating. I’ve spent the better part of the last week overrun by workmen of various sorts and the result has been quite good overall, in spite of minor meltdowns and so forth. Photos of some of the most recent accomplishments can be found over on my Flicker photostream.
I was out earlier, hoping to get a pile of boxes out in time to catch the garbage truck (No joy there) and ran into my neighbor to the west. I told him how beautiful his roses were this year and he cut me some. I wish you could smell them; they have the most delicate scents, and all are different. I can hardly wait until I can get mine planted, but getting together with Francisco isn’t easy. I hope to see him again later in the week.
My garbage can used to give me a swift pain. I wanted one of those shiny, red jobs with the hydraulic lids, but figured that feeding my cat was a little more important than stylish garbage, so I bought a white plastic one. And hated it with a fury until I discovered the 99 cent stickers at Target. Now it’s covered in a bright, pretty garden of flowers and we’re both much happier. It says “thank you” to me whenever I pass.
Ikea has been a lifesaver during this stage of decorating. It’s provided me with some good, clean storage options for both kitchen and living room. I’ve moved all my cookbooks out to the sun porch, and am filling up niches with cups and saucers, tea, coffee and various knick-knacks and small appliances. The Expedit storage tower hung horizontally, makes a terrific coffee and tea station.
Once I get everything placed out here, I’ll be painting. The walls will be a pale lemon and I think I’m going to do the spaces inside the two towers (Pause for geekly chortling) the same red that’s on the door, opposite this wall.
Sharp-eyed readers will note that I have a shitload of tea, particularly of the Kusmi variety. I loves my tea!
I’m turning into one of those old people who have walls encrusted with art, photos and memorabilia. As soon as I get this place looking the way I want, I’m going to dye my hair a shocking shade of red, start wearing vivid Russian shawls with wicked long fringe, and start saying things like “Oh the memories of summers at Livadia with the Tsar and his family are just too painful. I prefer to remember Paris in the nineties; the exposition, the Eiffel Tower… My dear, those were the days!” Now if I can just find someone to read Goethe to me in German while I doze in the sun, I think I could be happy. Okay, well that and a whole load of money.
I think my motto needs to be: What would the Princess Dragomiroff do? (WWtPDD?)