Redecorating is just a roiling, festering crisis that ruins your life right up to the very minute it is a pleasure.
Arthur the Wonder Teen wanted his room redecorated. And this was reasonable; he still had the cool bunk beds he got when he was five. But figuring out how to redecorate, and putting the steps in the proper order, was like hell on wheels. And then there’s the execution. (An apt word, I begin to suspect.)
First pick out furniture. Then clean room such that furniture could be moved in. Then get rid of great huge honking bunk beds. Pick out paint colors. Then paint. Meanwhile, Grandma makes curtains. (Grandma, not for nothing, is a decorator, and has been the major force behind the furniture and color selection, bless her.) Then get furniture, assemble. Live happily ever after.
Let me explain about the great honking bunk beds. They are (were) a seven foot cube, encompassing not just two beds at right angles (as opposed to parallel), but also had a built in desk with drawers and a built in dresser. A monstrosity. The first person I offered it to took one look, said “I don’t have time tonight, I’ll come back Sunday” and never came back. (Bitch.) The second person began disassembling it but had to leave. They were (are) Orthodox, so they couldn’t come back right away because the next day was Purim. Then they came back but didn’t finish because Shabbos was coming. It took ten frickin days to get honking beds out of the house. And since the beds had six dresser drawers and three desk drawers, we had to figure out where to put a lot of stuff. (Stuff figures prominently in this process.)
Arthur slept on a mattress in the hall while the bed thing happened. There was an incident involving feline urine. No one was happy.
Without bunk beds in it, it turns out the room is filthy and dusty. Who knew? Now we must finish emptying said room of debris and stuff (stuff! lots! of! stuff!) for painting. During this period we’ve given away toys, clothes, a framed Harry Potter poster, etc. We’ve thrown away bags and bags. And there is Still. More. Stuff. Dusty. Stuff. Shoot me now.
The painter is there now. When I get home tonight it’ll be all full of painty goodness. Then the Ikea hell must commence.
Sigh.
I am currently cleaning my eight year old’s room. I was thinking about redorating. Thank you for the reality check–I’ll wait until he actually asks and has the body mass to help. A lot. Yes, he can help.
Mind you, the fact that I’m currently redecorating the dining room should have been a clue to stop and sit with a nice cup of tea instead of go in there all gung ho to clean up. I suspect that Spring is to blame; the only time I get like this is this time of year.
[…] The room is painted. Really looks good. I mean, for an empty room with a couple of pieces of furniture shoved into the middle it does. […]