It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas
My mother gives me very nice, very generous gifts which I never seem to receive because they require me to pick them out. Housewares are popular, and I believe we are now in arrears by a sofa, a set of dishes, and an armoire. No, wait - strike the armoire. I found one and bought it last weekend!
I love the armoire I picked out, and since it came from an unfinished furniture store I have been sanding, staining, and varnishing to my little heart's content. The finished product will be a color I affectionately refer to as "Irish Setter" although the label on the can says something a lot more boring and a lot less helpful. What the heck does "Classic Oak" mean anyway? Oak was the color it was when I got it.
There have been a couple of mishaps, though. First, I didn't think about how, precisely, I would be able to move this armoire from the truck actually into my house. Luckily I stumbled upon a neighbor who didn't speak enough English (Russian, yes; English, no) to refuse my pathetic plea to help me move it. The problem was that he didn't realize that he could move a lot faster walking forward than I could moving backward and ran me over with the darn thing. I am now black and blue, possibly the only person I know to be attacked by her new furniture.
The other problem is that due to a lack of workspace, I have been staining this piece in the living room. As a girl whose father wouldn't let her drink grape juice until she had graduated college because the house was carpeted, this adds a nice element of rebellion to the project. Unfortunately I can't pass the armoire without doing something to it - another coat, sanding a rough spot, something. Accordingly I have arrived to work each morning with slightly sore fingers from where I accidentally sanded them while trying to get out the door. As I told one of the partners at the office, I don't think of them as abraded, merely well exfoliated.
In the meantime I have been getting rid of furniture in order to fit the armoire in. The desk will be going to some foreign exchange students who heretofore have been using sawhorses and plywood. The desk chair has come to my office as it is a lot prettier and more comfortable than my firm-issued tush rester. And when this is over I'll have enough room left in the living room to move the couch to the other side of the living room, shift the piano against a different wall, move the filing cabinet and all the lamps, and fit in my Christmas tree this year. And truthfully, that is what spurred this project. I got the piano in January and it goes right where the tree fits. I can't get rid of the piano but I had nowhere to move it. And I just couldn't bear the thought of not having a Christmas tree this year.
If you're looking for me this week, just follow the trail of sawdust.
I love the armoire I picked out, and since it came from an unfinished furniture store I have been sanding, staining, and varnishing to my little heart's content. The finished product will be a color I affectionately refer to as "Irish Setter" although the label on the can says something a lot more boring and a lot less helpful. What the heck does "Classic Oak" mean anyway? Oak was the color it was when I got it.
There have been a couple of mishaps, though. First, I didn't think about how, precisely, I would be able to move this armoire from the truck actually into my house. Luckily I stumbled upon a neighbor who didn't speak enough English (Russian, yes; English, no) to refuse my pathetic plea to help me move it. The problem was that he didn't realize that he could move a lot faster walking forward than I could moving backward and ran me over with the darn thing. I am now black and blue, possibly the only person I know to be attacked by her new furniture.
The other problem is that due to a lack of workspace, I have been staining this piece in the living room. As a girl whose father wouldn't let her drink grape juice until she had graduated college because the house was carpeted, this adds a nice element of rebellion to the project. Unfortunately I can't pass the armoire without doing something to it - another coat, sanding a rough spot, something. Accordingly I have arrived to work each morning with slightly sore fingers from where I accidentally sanded them while trying to get out the door. As I told one of the partners at the office, I don't think of them as abraded, merely well exfoliated.
In the meantime I have been getting rid of furniture in order to fit the armoire in. The desk will be going to some foreign exchange students who heretofore have been using sawhorses and plywood. The desk chair has come to my office as it is a lot prettier and more comfortable than my firm-issued tush rester. And when this is over I'll have enough room left in the living room to move the couch to the other side of the living room, shift the piano against a different wall, move the filing cabinet and all the lamps, and fit in my Christmas tree this year. And truthfully, that is what spurred this project. I got the piano in January and it goes right where the tree fits. I can't get rid of the piano but I had nowhere to move it. And I just couldn't bear the thought of not having a Christmas tree this year.
If you're looking for me this week, just follow the trail of sawdust.
posted by Lisa at 7:31 AM
1 Comments:
Lisa, I don't expect you to believe this, but I have actually be runover by an armoire, too.
Amazing the things we have in common...
I was walking backwards, my husband didn't realize how fast he was going, I wound up spraining my very sprain-prone ankle...and my poor husband wound up moving a bunch of heavy things on his own while I lay on the floor with a bag of frozen peas on my elevated foot.
I was allowed to drink grape juice, but as a general rule, my husband doesn't let me move heavy things...
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