So, we shifted everything around, including two bookshelves and the couch, and took the futon sofa frame to the DI (read charity shop.) There is still sorting and closets to deal with next week, but the place feels much more open and workable now. Looking at small comfy chairs, nothing quite fits yet, but nothing much is open in this town on Sunday, and the furniture stores are at the far south end of the valley for the most part. NOT going to Ikea. I don't object to them as business, I just am repelled by their esthetic. I've seen many of their catalogues left at work over the years, and have never wanted one thing from them. Ever. D's parents gave us a lamp from Ikea that we both found creepy, which got broken in the last move.
D was worried that Moby would have trouble with the cat tree in the new location. I figured he's a smart cat, he'll figure it out. He did, no sweat. And he seems to love the couch in the new configuration. Funny, because when we first got it, he avoided going near it, didn't like the smell or the feel on his paws, something. Maybe the volatiles used in manufacture took a while to evaporate, who knows. He stretched out across half, while D and I sat on the other half, pleasantly squished together, eating the chili D made, with the tortillas I cooked. Not that I made, found. Uncooked tortillas, even a local product, just griddle up at home. The week we were wishing such a thing existed.
Mild week with decent air, feels indecent. End of the month, a few days in the Pacific northwest.
Labels: Self portrait