Even the most plaything-crowded toy-storage-facility-with-attached-kitchen (a home) needs some furniture. Sure, you can try eating off of a table you put together from thousands of Legos, but sometimes it’s a little unstable if you’ve got a heavy casserole or a turkey or something. And the seats in Barbie’s airplane just are not comfortable for sleeping night after night, no matter how many little pillows you beg off the flight attendant.
I appreciate a nicely furnished and decorated home as much as the next gal, it’s just that achieving that state seems to take more time and money than I’m interested in spending. At its best, my home décor style can be described as, what’s that decorators’ term?, oh yeah, “unlikely to be totally rejected by a thrift shop.” And we haven’t been in our house that long, so we’re sort of still in a primitive state of arranging things – but really soon we plan to choose our own spots to hang pictures, not just go with whatever holes were already there.
We have made a big, first step; we bought that key item of home decorating these days – a desk chair. It’s nothing fancy, but unlike many other things in the house, it’s unstained, unbroken and not unattractive. So naturally it doesn’t fit in at all. And it’s a bit snooty about the whole thing too. I mean, I know my garden has no respect for me, but now the furniture is mocking also.
I can just imagine what the chair’s thinking: “What did I do to deserve this? Look what I’m surrounded by.”
And then the toy basket pipes up, “Hey, hi there, I know what you mean, I’m from Ikea too.”
“Let me guess,” says the chair, with a sneer, “You’re multifunctional. And I see you’re wicker – and falling apart.”
“Uh yeah,” says the poor basket. “Look, storage and a seat. I thought that was pretty neat. It’s just that the kids kind of poked me. And you know, the top gets thrown around, and, uh…”
“Oh, ignore the basket,” says the couch. “It’s been around for ages. Look at me, I’m young.”
“You’re young? Dear god, what happened to you?” says the chair.
And now the poor couch is abashed. “Oh, well, they were working on teaching the younger kid that you only draw on paper, but it took a while to sink in. And then this problem spring I’ve got, I don’t know, the kids like to jump on me.”
“Yes, well, neither of the adults here are lightweights, I’ve noticed; it could be from them sitting around channel surfing all the time,” that nasty chair says.
“Oh no,” says the basket, still trying to be friendly. “The clicker’s been missing for ages – they’ve looked everywhere but they can’t find it.”
“My god, these people are pathetic,” the chair says. “Am I really doomed to be here?”
And you know, chair, one more word and you just might be out. Because it’s much easier to get rid of one new chair that’s making everything else look bad, than to actually replace all the other junk.