Tuesday, March 2, 2010

We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming...

...To bring you what might be the most challenging project of my life....my husband's "man room."

We call it his room because it's where all of the furniture he brought into our marriage lives. Not because we have separate bedrooms. It's actually the guest room, but since I've decorated the rest of our home, he needs space for his many leather bound books and rich mahogany. 
And yes, that was an Anchorman reference.

Back to the matter at hand...the room.

There is so much about this room that drives me absolutely crazy. Not the least of which is the fact that the bedding (not his choice, but the only other duvet set that we own) IS ALWAYS WRINKLED, regardless of whether I've just spent 45 minutes ironing every little part of it or not.

But perhaps I've focused on the wrinkled bedding because otherwise I'd have to focus on the fact that there is more furniture in this room alone than in the rest of our entire home. Seriously.

The  real challenge? The fact that this is his stuff. His match, golf ball and presidential campaign pin collections....his marathon and half marathon medals....his never ending files....his plaster dog, Sir Hawthorne....his framed pics from sophomore year.

Yes, I said plaster dog. With a name. You didn't think I was going to skim over that, did you?

All of it is important to him. I completely get that, and I want him to be surrounded by it.  It is, of course, his home too.  But I've long thought that there HAD to be a way that we could organize it so that he still loves the room, and I don't feel the compulsive need to shut the door every time I walk past.

And then...we got the call.

My chairs were done.

You know, my Chaing Mai Dragon chairs?

And suddenly, we were faced with a problem:

The Beast.

My arch nemesis.

A squatter in the rightful home of my beautiful, perfect chairs.

And that, combined with a nesting urge that has taken over for the nausea, presented a really. serious. problem.

(To be continued...)

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