This is like a bad episode of "Housewives of Suburbia." Oh gee. I just don't know what to do. Buy a new SUV or a new diamond necklace. Life is so hard. I mean, should I get a nanny or a personal chef? I just don't know which would be better. Those lucky people in Eithiopia. They don't have to make such hard decisions.
I want to punch myself in the face for continuing to talk about this, but here goes....
So, I am over this whole decorating dilemma. I was all gung-ho earlier. And I loved all your comments. Y'all are so SMART. I loved Jen's idea of switching the furniture in the two rooms. And so I spent half the day ignorning my children and moving the furniture. By myself. Because I knew if I waited for John to come home, he would veto the idea outright (...every party has a pooper. Hi, honey!) And I just had to see how it would look. Except this couch wouldn't fit through the doorway. So I took one little foot-thing off. And it was so hard to get it off, I didn't take the other three off. And I left the couch on its side in the hallway blocking the stairs all day.
And it looked like this.
But I got the other furniture switched. It looked like this. Bring up the flat screen from the basement, add an occasional chair (subtract the bookshelves) and voila! Problems solved. I sat down and heaved a sigh of relief. Great! I'll get new wood floor in the back of the house AND have enough seating in the grownup hangout area.
And then John came home. And said those couches are way too gross and trashed, and if we didn't do that room right, we shouldn't do it at all. I thought about the pee and the Sharpie marker and the lollipops and apple juice and barf embedded in those cushions. And decided he was right. I also stood up and Lysoled myself immediately. Then I called the CDC and asked for a contaminant team to be dispatched to my house STAT.
Then John got annoyed that I took the foot-thing off the couch. Because we couldn't get it back on. (Always fun living with me!) So, then we tried moving all the furniture back and ended up gouging the shit out of the existing wood floor. And hurting my back. "Just pick it up!" my big six-foot-two man said, lifting his end like it was a cotton ball. I'd already moved all that stuff by myself by SLIDING it on blankets across the floors. No lifting involved. Lifting and I don't mix. Especially after I'd been to the gym today as well. Ow.
Then I started thinking about Meg's comment about buying new couches in a different shade and how that made no sense because you KNOW the kids will be all over it. With their snots. And their half-masticated Laffy Taffy. God. Again. I feel like sucker punching myself for rabbiting on like this, but I give you exhibit A: Toys on the couch the minute I moved it out of the play room. So, ummm....you're right. That makes no sense.
I'm going to get the wood floors in the kitchen and family room and get rid of the hideous black linoleum and country railing. Screw the adult hang-out room. We can just sit on the pretty new floor and pretend it is comfy furniture.