I hate eating in the living room, but that's what we do. It's become the default place people eat in the house. When I'm by myself, I eat standing up in the kitchen. When I'm with a close friend, I force them to eat at the kitchen table, which is cute but uncomfortable. And so, here you see, the living-as-dining room.
Should I put the kibosh on this habit and insist on a dining room table?
Suasoria (who I've been calling Susoria for a good three years now and who may or may not be this person) used a hot vocab word in her (his?) comment about my couch. Antimacassars. That's both a once-ubiquitous hair oil and the prophylactic bit of fabric used to protect chairs and sofas from your grubby little hands. My sofa does indeed still have hers. One of them is quite dirty, however.
Anyone know how I can clean that? As you can see, Emma was no help.
I used to be a funny blogger with sort-of interesting headlines. I've lost my touch. It'll come back; I'm sure. In the meantime, all you nice people will have to suffer me my sofas and other paraphernalia (who knew that word was spelled like that...). This couch, which is covered in a fine, off-white damask fabric, is made by the Century Furniture company. I gather it's very well-made. I got it at The Brown Elephant, this terrific thrift store on Clark Street in Andersonville for a very fair $160. It was $195, but I saw this guy in front of me using a coupon from a local paper. I sent WJ out for a similar coupon and got 25% off.
Here's what I like about it:
single cushion bottom
buttons on the bottom cushion
How long do you think it'll be before I tear off one of the buttons on the seat cushion?
I finally started to unpack my books and stuff. Here's what I did with the faux fireplace. Wendy Jo calls it a giant version of one of my collage boxes. I call it a mantle. More of this and I should be a bit happier. Also, bought a couch. That tomorrow.
The day I arrived in my apartment, I was thrilled with my choice, and spent about an hour puttering around. Then a weird formaldehyde smell wafted into the front rooms. WJ smelled it too. We couldn't figure out where it was coming from, but I am now convinced my upstairs neighbor is embalming people (maybe even the former tenants) in his apartment.
There's a safe in wall at my new place. No one knows the combination. What if there's a pile of gold in there? I saw another safe when I was looking for apartments here. It was hidden under the staircase.