I left all my furniture at my old house for staging, so for about a month now, Edith, Mom, and I (as well as the nanny) have been sitting on the floor, eating out of a mini-fridge, and sleeping in twin beds. It’s gotten really old, and so I was excited for all our furniture to finally be moved in yesterday.
Except now that it’s here, I’ve realized that I hate it.
In my old house, my furniture looked a bit shabby, but cute. The colors and textures went well together. It wasn’t especially matchy, but it all looked intentional. My living room especially appeared harmonious to me. Every time I walked into the room, I got a good feeling of peace. I always felt mildly pleased with how things looked.
But in this living room, it looks like the room where we stored all the furniture we weren’t using and didn’t know what to do with. It’s sort of weird how a set of furniture that looked coherent in one space can look so wildly mismatched and unintentional in another space.
Every time I walk into the living room now, I feel slightly stressed out and displeased, the same feeling you get when you suddenly remember something that isn’t going well at work, or some particularly detestable chore you have to take care of. I mean, I really hate it!
But I don’t have any time right now, and I don’t have any money after the move, so there’s not much I can do about it. Also, I invested in a really expensive couch that fit my old space perfectly, but it doesn’t work here at all, and it’s only like seven months old. So I’m sort of stuck.
Maybe I’ll just spend all my leisure time in the walk-in shower, which I do like.