Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Another Room, Out From Under The Heap
Another room has escaped the shackles of its cardboard imprisonment.
It's not really decorated yet. No curtains, pictures, or shelves have been hung. No knick-knacks have settled into their spots of residence. It's pretty bare and a tad stark and hotel-like. (Some might call it uncluttered and streamlined.)
But it has finally achieved Guest Room status. It is unpacked and functional. And ready for guests. Guests who really like each other, since it features an oh so cozy double bed.
I've been just periodically walking by the room, standing in the doorway, staring. I do this. When I take something from trashed and unusable to sparkly clean and organized, I stand there and stare at my accomplishment, often throughout the day. I get kind of glazed over and smiley. Russ starts looking at me like I'm mental. And I am. But it's just such a feeling of "ahhh". Nice.
And look how cute these bedside tables are...
I found this little nightstand (at Precious Cargo) and trunk (at Hobby Lobby), both for ridiculously reasonable prices. They are each heavy as concrete, so I'm assuming they're both made from "good wood". (My dad has been giving me little mini-lessons on how to spot good wood.) Of course, I still really don't know how to differentiate between the good and the bad (and the non-wood). My two super nifty finds could actually be laminated concrete.
Regardless, I dig them both!
And isn't this a cute picture of Seth? He was totally conked on Russell and making a whistling noise through his poochy little lips. All the while signing "I love you". Aww.
Okay. Hilarious interruption.
This jet lag thing is really kicking Russ's tail. He put on his p.j's and went to bed thirty minutes ago. Within a minute, I heard him snoring - sound asleep.
Just now he appeared before me at the computer...
Russ: "Hi. Where is the bathroom?"
Me: (Smile.) "Um..."
Russ: "Oh. I mean, where IS the bathroom?"
Me: (Realizing, of course, we were smack-dab in the middle of another sleep-talking moment, I attempted to de-smile and speak calmly, so as to not provoke Sleeping Rage-o-Maniac Man.) "Russ, the bathroom is right there, around the corner. Why are you dressed? Why are your socks back on?"
Russ: (Looking down at his attire, jamming both hands down into his pockets...) "I. Okay. Pants. Night."
He stumbles back to the bedroom. I hear a flop onto the bed.