Healthy Mind, Body and Soul Journey AKA What the Fudgecake Happened to my Living Room

If you have been reading my blog for the past five weeks, then you know I am having a little rough patch.  Rough patch?  I'd call it more of a  large parcel of land.  Yesterday, being a particularly emotionally draining day for me I went to bed at 6:30.  Yes, 6:30 and yes that's PM (don't judge).

I felt a little better after almost 12 hours of sleep as I stumbled down the hallway.  That is, I felt better, until I entered my living room.  And was greeted by this:

Um...who said the red recliner could be replaced by the ugly, saggy 15 year old love-seat?  I'm not even looking at the pile of shoes under the coffee table, the dirty clothes in the corner of the couch, or the array of shite on the coffee and end tables.  All I can see is this ugly-ass piece of furniture that I have  repeatedly said COULD NOT be brought into the living room.  Well, while mom's asleep is like when the cat's away...the mice will play. 

Now, I have reconciled myself to the fact that I live in a house with a husband, three sons, and a daughter who, personal hygiene aside, is as big a slob as her brothers (sorry Princess, but it's true). but I refuse to live in a bachelor pad/fraternity house.  A woman has to draw the line somewhere.  

Much huffing and puffing ensued, and more than a few words I won't mention here were spoken when I beheld this scene. I, quite emphatically, told the male people in the house, that the plaid couch WAS NOT staying in my living room.  "Oh, the plan is to swap it out with the love seat in the other room (the one in the other room matches the couch) and put the old one in there."  Okay, fine, but until then I supposed to live with it?  Oh hell NO!  Who knows how long that will take.  I'm still waiting, seven years after installation, for electricity to be hooked up to my vent-hood.  And don't even get me started on the thresholds, or lack thereof since the floor was laid four or five years ago. No, matters would have to be taken into my own hands. 

It's a good thing I have surprisingly robust upper body strength, plus the living room floor is Pergo, so sliding (and scratching) aren't a problem.  So I got to work moving those couches around.  I wasn't going to look at that for even one day.  As an aside, and since I'm on a rant, why not just say what's on my mind, right?  I'm not overly fond of the couch that matches that love seat, I would eventually shimmy into place, but it's better than a mismatched set.  The matching couch and love seat were a Craig's list find that my husband is particularly proud of.  Such a good deal at $200 for the set!  Unfortunately I wasn't integral to the deal and now have to live with 1980's dusty pink, not to mention puffy, living room furniture.  And they are in excellent shape, and good quality, so they aren't going anywhere any time soon. :(

After a few tugs and scoots, I had the love seats switched.  Considering what I have to work with, it didn't turn out too bad.  Tinkerbell seems okay with it. 

And here it is from the other angle.  I have a lovely hutch/secretary built by my dad many years ago on that wall, so since it really is much nicer looking that the good-and-sturdy Craig's list couch and love seat, I figure, why not show it off.  Although now that I look at the picture you can't even see the secreatary very well.  Trust me when I tell you it is beautiful. 

Oh, and I seriously cannot resist the chance to show off the centerpiece of the room - the TV.  It really does fit in with the 1980's couches.  Had I been going for that look, I would be pleased as punch, since I'm not, I really just try to keep it tidy, there's just no way of hiding the ugly pink couches and the monstrous-large-fed-too-many-steroids television.  At least it all matches, right?  That's a step in the right direction.  I would also like to draw your attention to the abnormally small in scale to the TV picture hanging on the wall above the TV.  I have a piece of art I would like to hang there.  It's been sitting in my garage for....oh...about three months now.  My husband doesn't want to mar the beauty of the room by putting any more holes in the wall.  A hole, mind you, that would be COVERED by the piece of art hanging there, but it would be an extra hole nonetheless and apparently he can't bring himself to hammer it.  I might just do it myself and accidentally drop the hammer on the monstrosity of a TV.  That wouldn't be nice of me, would it?  Sometimes I don't like being nice. 

No way can I close this post without some pictures of Charlie, our Chiweenie, to whom the love seat in the other room (the other room being a room that defies categorization) actually belongs to.  He was none too happy with the changeover, wasn't about to even look at the camera.

In the end though, he figured out that he can perch and watch for squirrels and birds just as well from this love seat. so all is well in Charlie-land.

Now, all I have to do is go around, spray bottle and rag in hand and clean up all the territories Charlie has surely marked throughout the whole living area.  Men and boys, even the canine ones, are going to be the death of me yet.  As for right now, I am showered and sitting here at my desk in a house dress.  Yes, you read that right, HOUSE DRESS, a good old-fashioned-grandma-wore-one, house dress.  And I'm not even ashamed.  After all the work I did this morning, I may just wear the darned thing all day!