...of my life hardly seems worth blogging about, but since I've been so erratic in my posts of late I should perhaps explain. This week has been devoted almost entirely to inconspicuous consumtion. Yes, the major renovations to stately ideofact manor were completed a few weeks ago, but I hardly had a moment to take advantage of the new fashionable digs. The basement, beautifully refurbished, had not a stick of furniture in it -- what had been there was mostly stuff I'd accumulated in my bachelor days, broken down and busted up bookcases, a desk that had seen far better days, bizarro chairs (one or two of which were left by the home's former owners), and other assorted crap all of which my wife was only too happy to be rid. So, these last couple of days, I've loaded up my pitiful little Saturn with all sorts of stuff -- the elegant little desk I'm typing at now, some sparkling new bookcases, and so on. My wife has graciously consented to allow me to buy what I want, which for her is a huge concession -- I freely admit I have terrible taste, or rather that while I have reasonably good taste about individual things, it's just that I have a great deal of trouble putting them together in any coherent way. When I accompanied her on an outing to pick the tiles, fixtures, and what not for the remodelled bathrooms, I felt a bit like Salieri in the scene in Amadeus when he assists Mozart in writing the Requiem:
"Two different shades of blue, white, yellow, a simple white sink -- you're going too fast, I don't understand..."
The effect certainly isn't on a par with Mozart, but it's pleasing nonetheless.
So I've been spending a fair amount of time at furniture stores, including a few stints at Ikea. I wonder how many relationships have ended there. Standing in the checkout counter with my bookcases the other day, I couldn't help noticing how many young couples there were looking sourly not so much at the collected merchandise in the cart, but at one another. One can sense the tension in the showroom. Blessed are those indeed who share one another's tastes, or, in my case, are smart enough to realize that the other partner's taste is well worth deferring to.
So my hands are beaten up -- nicks and cuts, blisters, aches and pains -- from assembling furniture. Tomorrow, the books return from their exile in a closet to being easily accessible. Life should be returning to normal after this months long disruption -- well, at least until the cicadas show up...Posted by Ideofact at May 5, 2004 11:28 PM