Tuesday, April 18, 2017

Being Erased by Ikea

Now that the shakedown cruise is completed, we have a short laundry list of repairs.

Some we can do ourselves. It's a relief to see that we settled into teamwork on the RV much like we always have on the boat - we discuss the plan of attack, gather the tools and attack one project at a time together. As usual one of us takes lead, playing to our strengths, and the other falls into a supporting role.

We were never this good together on house projects.  In fact, our 9 years of homeownership have been mostly a non-stop series of bickerfests over every angle of every project until one of us just throws in the towel from exhaustion.  There are a couple of exceptions  - one of which being the guest room drapes.

I designed a roman-type shade system with bamboo supports and sailing hardware, and there is none else like it. We shopped the fabric and built it together; Lance did the wood and bamboo cutting, gluing and painting, I found the bamboo and boat cleat, cut and sewed the fabric, varnished the cleat support to tie off, both of us hammered the grommets and together we mounted it to the wall, and ran the hardware and lines to the wall cleat.  It was one of our first projects together as new homeowners, and we were so excited that it was a one-off design we built together. From my brain to our hands to our wall.  We had high expectations that the rest of the house would come together the same way.  It did not.

Fast-forward 9 years and countless projects later.  I have come to loathe Every. House. Project. The bickering, the indecision, the time spent NOT on the boat, the money spent NOT on vacations.

But there it was, on the wall, a perfect example of something we could accomplish if we put our heads together.

Well, the real estate agent doesn't like the colors I chose for the bedrooms.  The master bedroom in particular is a very "interesting" shade of blue.  I love it because I am a scuba diver and I feel like I am underwater.  Apparently other people don't enjoy waking up and thinking they are underwater, the agent tells us it will be easier to sell the house if all the bedroom walls are painted white.  Rental house white.

I HATE rental house white.  Always have.  I've moved countless times and every rental is
the same soulless shade of white.  I swore that if I was ever a homeowner again I would paint the walls ANYTHING but white.

I'm trying to remain calm.  This officially does not feel like my house any more.  At least there are those interesting curtains, some sign that we were actually here, real people who tried to be good Americans and fit into the American Dream as prescribed by countless others.  We worked very hard, we put all our money and time into this house, we tried very hard to take care of it ourselves and make it our own home.

I took another deep breath.  Reminded myself that this was our plan, I needed to let it go.  I was working through it.  Until I noticed that they had spilled white paint on the shades that we built together.  The employee scrubbed on it for a moment before shrugging and saying "maybe my boss buy you some more" and wanders off.

Um, ok?!? Any evidence that I was here at all is about to be erased!
Like some cheap Ikea curtains are going to solve this problem!

Yes, I know, curtains are just things. And the house is just a thing. And collectively it is all one giant albatross holding us back from pursuing our life of travel. And that we will have so much more freedom once we're out from under the mortgage and on the road. And I am a person who will hopefully continue to exist long after curtains have been replaced.  I know all of that. And I will come around to all of these facts. Later.  Right now I need to be somewhere else - anywhere else but here in this house, somebody else's house, with these

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