Ohmygosh, I did it. I bought things for nesting. Once I convince Corey to help me assemble the things, I will, more or less, feel a wave of satisfaction and accomplishment. I think. Sometimes consuming is rewarding.
I secured these bookshelves. I also got 5 boxes to fit into the shelves to store my knitting stuff, and my work crap. In the process of going through these items, I found piles and heaps of crap to freecycle AND added a yaffa block and filing cabinet to the furniture I'm going to put up on craigslist. I can feel the floorboards breathing a sigh of relief at the prospect of so much less stuff in the house.
I bought this lamp for the dining room and a rug to go under the table. I can already see the day when I get to throw that brass atrocity on the sidewalk for bulk trash day. I might just smash it with my foot, triumphantly. I'll probably donate it to Construction Junction in reality. But in my fantasy, I'll drop kick it (with spiral!) from the porch to the curb.
I did not find a coffee table with storage, which makes me upset. Why don't they make coffee tables with enclosed shelves? They all have these open shelves. If my family (read COREY) were capable of piling things neatly and organizing stuff, I wouldn't need to place objects on open shelves. I'd just keep them where they are. But we aren't like that, so we need cupboards or drawers to hide our mess from the world. I fear I might have to put this fantasy on hold until I invent something that meets my very specific vision for a coffee table.
My goal this week is to prod Corey toward shelf assembly and light fixture installation. I would assemble the shelves myself, but he gets snappy when I put together the Ikea furniture and I'm far too impatient to wait for things like glue drying or instructions. It's better if he does it, since he doesn't use swear words. Instead, I'll supervise and work hard at growing a baby, which is fast becoming my excuse for why I don't have to do things around the house.
In other news, I did something at Ikea that I've never done in my recent memory. I asked the store people to help me get the bookshelves into the car. That was probably the hardest thing I ever had to do. I know I could have lifted the box, and I know that I did lift it from the shelf into the cart, but when I went to maneuver my load into the trunk, something just told me I was trying too much. It felt very strange, and I kept feeling as though I had to apologize or somehow indicate that I'm not normally the sort of person not strong enough to heft particle board from the cart to the car. I almost feel like I should make a donation to the women's olympic weightlifting team to counter-balance my helplessness today. This is going to get very difficult for my stubborn refusal to be seen as a weak person.