Wednesday, September 15, 2010

The Pit of Despair

Or, in more common nomenclature, the basement.

I hate to call it a pit, but I should be true and honest about it, right? And no, you won't be seeing any pictures of it until it's not a health hazard (just joking) any more.

We moved into our lovely house just over 10 years ago. It started out with just Mr. K and I and it seemed *so* spacious. I mean, really: 1,500 square feet for just the two of us? What luxury after an apartment!

It hasn't shrunk(I'm taking that on faith), but the accumulation of 4 people over the course of 10 years without a major gutting has taken its toll. In my defense, I have managed to get the main floor and our bedroom back to a more minimalist perspective over the summer. (The kids rooms get their nod after I'm really done with all the main floor painting).

So, in addition to cleaning out the basement fitting with my general mood of 'cleaning up my act' so to say, it serves another purpose. To be the work area for the settee I found at Goodwill last week and have stored at my in-laws garage down the road.

We won't discuss how I'm in the dog house over this. You see, after texting Mr. K with a picture of said settee and asking him what he thought about it, he responded with a very short text. The one that only takes two letters. N-O.
I was good that day and didn't immediately purchase it. But, after sleeping on it and the next morning in which I drove back over there by myself and saw it still for sale, I totally caved. Look at it:

I spent several hours contacting friends and family trying to figure out not only transportation, but storage. It's hard to tell by this photo, but this incredible piece of furniture is six feet long. Yes, six feet. And it will look perfect in our library/reading room under my seven foot window. *AND* it won't even interfere with the window at all!

Back to my transportation/storage issues. Remember my 1,500 square foot house? With a basement that is fairly (mostly) full? [Cue ominous music and show pictures of our heroine biting her lips and sweating profusely]

Now for the best part: my father in law not only agreed to store it in their garage until I get my workspace cleared out, but he and my mother in law drove up to pick it up. Did I mention how much I *love* my in laws? LOTS! And I did even before now, but you have to admit this is really going above and beyond the call of duty here. I should also mention that my MIL used to deal in antiques so she could gauge this beauty with a practiced eye.

Well, I probably should get back to the decrapification of my pit so I can start working on reupholstering my settee.

Love to you all,


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