When I moved up here, I stayed in a temp apartment for a few months. It was kind of like a hotel, since all the furniture, linens and accessories were provided. I just brought the clothes, the cats and a few accessories. When I finally moved out of that shoebox into an only slightly larger shoebox after my home in Georgia sold, I brought more of my own goodies. But obviously everything from a six bedroom monstrosity wasn't going to fit into this Lilliputian manor, so I called up a few players from the minor leagues to fit in.
I honestly like the B-team furniture, even though it had been relegated to guest bedrooms and sitting rooms. After all, I bought it in the first place. The desk, and the squared dining table and chairs are truly works of art, and the plantation style sofa and demi-love seat are fun, comfy and interesting. The bedroom, however, was a bit more problematic. In the master boudoir back home, I had an iron California King with a half canopy and the nighstands had marble tops and were really horizontal, making for a huge footprint that would never fit here. Nor would the gigantic armoire (which to rehash a long running argument with a former lover, is for holding clothes, not a TV, since that should always be out, visible and on). So I had to figure out which of the Richmond Braves would make The Show.
I finally settled on the queen sized sleigh bed, which is also a nice piece. So nice in fact, that the buyers of my old house kept trying to get it in the negotiations (along with the big screen television, the ping pong table, the patio furniture, the china cabinet, the signature armchairs, four quarts of blood and the rights to my eternal soul). I countered by telling them that the latter demand didn't exist (prove it, bitches!) and offering them my stainless outdoor grill instead of the bed. So I set that up here, and used the bedding that was on it in one of the former guest rooms. I treated my guests well, so I didn't have a problem with it really. But after a few months, I began to miss the pampering set up of my former nocturnal retreat. On the old king, I had an eclectic mix of Ralph Lauren linens covering a fluffy featherbed, topped by a goosedown comforter and duvet cover. Here and now, it was just a "set." A nice, decent set, but still not the luxury and enveloping comfort to which I had grown accustomed.
Over the last few months, I've been slowly but surely digging myself out of the financial aftermath of the Stage 5 Hurricane Trollop, and rewarding myself with little "treats" along the way. Regular readers have been bored to tears with my fawning over most of them (the iPod, the Keurig, the Dyson, the GPS, the XM, etc.). But last night, after one too many margaritas, I decided I needed try to recreate that feeling of cloud floating bliss and amenity, if only to feel relaxed as I went to sleep watching a west coast Braves games or Horatio taking off his sunglasses to yet another groan-inducing pun. So this morning I armed myself with a fistful of BB&B coupons and ventured out. I actually started at Macy's and Nordstrom, because they were closer, but even at those prices - which I was ready to pay - I couldn't find anything I really liked in the quality level I wanted. Plus, there it was very "Garanimals," and everything coordinated a bit too closely. I like to mix and match somewhat and give things an eclectic yet harmonious feel. A couple hours later, I returned home with an SUV full of goodies. Goosedown comforter. Goosedown featherbed and pillows. Astronomically high thread count Egyptian cotton sheets and pillow cases. Duvet cover and bed skirt. (Aside: ever tried to change a bed skirt on a bed with side panels all by yourself? Kids, don't try it when drinking heavily). All in a color combination of dusky merlot and faint mocha. Really nice. And it gives the bed that slightly rumpled, fluffy and inviting look even when the bed is made (which of course it should be just after you wake up and are waiting for the shower to get warm). It should be extraordinarily relaxing and yet it's still a tad bittersweet as I put more and more distance between what was and what is. But if I get melancholy, I can just sleep on it, right?
Okay, I'll stop rambling, as this has been flaming enough for one post (not that there's anything wrong with that).
Good night, all.