I’m taking on a much bigger project. (Remember, I produce children that get carried away in producing their own chromosomes, loose two teeth in one day, can scream for four hours straight purely on a whim and if I can gain a pound why not gain 20. Get on the over-achieving bandwagon people, it’s fraught with high drama but a whole lotta fun.)
Apart from our lounge that is almost eight years old, Chef and I have got the inheriting furniture down to a fine art. The computer is on an old table that his grandfather built. Underneath it has love messages from Chef’s Dad about how he felt about Chef’s Mum. The table in the photo above belonged to our old nextdoor neighbours who were getting rid of a whole heap of stuff as they were moving to a penthouse in Manly. The chairs are from Chef’s sister and husband, who recently undertook renovations of their house, lived with Chef’s parents for s.i.x. months and are still happily married and now with a house that could well sit on the pages of Vogue Living.
Yes, you may be seeing a trend here – people on the up and up, us on the charity handmedown ride to a life permanently resembling that when you first move out of home and take the uncomfortable lumpy sofa bed from Aunty Lois because it’s still better than sitting on the floor with the roaches.
Anyway, I’m going to make them better. Yes people, it will involve sanding, it will involve painting, it will involve trying to get some sort of ‘French Provincial’ effect which I hate (I am much more a contemporary kinda gal but with eclectic old/antique pieces thrown in to ‘catch the eye’. Yeah I know, who am I kidding.) but which will suit the pieces.
This is all because I need to be manic. I need lots of projects on the boil, otherwise my head has too much time to contemplate itself and the body it inhabits, and let me tell you, that is a hard fast ugly ride to hell. The last couple of days I’ve felt its onset. Felt the shutters closing ever so slightly, and frankly, I’m just not going there. It’s lonely, dark and not a pretty trip for anyone.
But I also tend to take on more than I can chew. Start projects I never finish (the cross-stitch I started when on bedrest with Oscar’s pregnancy which is still unfinished is a good case in point) and then get quite frustrated at my inability to find closure on anything.
I figure if I do it publicly then that is motivation enough to keep going.
This is all ofcourse, a pathetic attempt to create furniture that looks like it goes together and will sort of actually go with the house. But in reality it’s because below is the table I want, a table that would cost us $17,000. So the table that cost Mum $10 and the chairs that were free are just going to have to do.