Well, I had good intentions, kind of like putting my head in a blender for the Greater Good: two people I like very much were to visit this weekend, bringing their OCD to bear on certain intractable areas of my house. Their arrival would precipitate severe tidying in the relatively malleable parts of my house, leading to an overall improvement for Thanksgiving.
In pursuit of this, did I clean off the coffeetable? No, I spent $260 at Target. New spare pillows, new sheets, new blanket for the guest futon in the loom room (as well as Grace and Dahlia, my ex-spouse or a friend of the daughter will be out there for Thanksgiving and Lisa for Christmas); curtains rods for the already bought curtains for the loom room, a clock radio/cd player for the loom room because the lack of music, NPR, and timepiece has been making me insane. While it will never be Grace and Dahlia's spare room (their hobbies are not stash-involved. They have _space_ in their kitchen cabinets. And yet they are lovable), I wanted it to be more welcoming and the sort of place I would be happy to find after 16 oz of wine.
I hate all window treatments, but you can see the BTU's beating their tiny fists against the insulated glass and sneaking through eventually. Many people are disturbed by the prying glances of bears and chickens before they dress (the people. Our bears and chickens are always perfectly dressed)(one way or another). I got the plain white cotton tabbed curtains and am contemplating a swarm of potato block-prints. How to avoid pointless busyness in a room with a wool stash and a bookshelf without just having boring white curtains? The pointless dreaded pelmet? And I may have to hem them...
Last night I put up a set of curtains (insert moan about inability to use electric tools on viciously-designed curtain rod holders and incorrect placement of electric outlets), and realized that my intuition that neither the LONG nor the short curtain rods were the right length for three of the windows was spot on. One can, however, take half a long rod and half a short rod and achieve medium. Go me.
I also moved the bookshelf. Most of you will be at peace with the idea that one MUST unload the shelves. This is not necessarily the case, but it is wise not to stack the books in the turning radius through which the bookshelf (half-full? half-emptied?) is intended to pass.
Stacks of books are no more stable than glaciers.
Willow thinks I am eccentric. She kept me company, leaving only long enough to beat the crap out of one of the boys.
The loom room is not at the moment a tranquil place, but I had some idea it could be made habitable in a few more hours. But Grace called and Dahlia's mother has just had a metastatic malignant mass removed from her back and they won't be coming anytime soon. I wish it had been for happier reason, like winning a weekend at the Balsams.