Redecorating

Because of Superstorm Sandy, my sister-in-law’s summer house had to be gutted. And while I am not envious in any way of her trauma, I am envious of the fact that she has the opportunity to begin from scratch. Everything will be new and tailored to her needs and likes.

For what seems like too long I have walked into my living room and thought I hate it in here.

Technically, there was nothing heinous about it. It was just that I collectively found everything to be tired. It was one of the few rooms in my house that remained untouched but for a picture frame or two for the last twenty years.

But I did not have the budget to throw everything out. In addition—most of my “things” were still “good.” And I did not hate my palate.Which is what held me in park for months—I did not have a concrete plan. Because updating a space is way more difficult than starting with a clean canvas. It requires much more imagination—and decision making. And so I began the process of assessing item by item what was still worthy—and what was not—what just needed relocating, and what was headed to the attic or the dumpster.

And finally—too many trips to Home Goods and Pier 1 later--I think—the project is complete: new art work, pillows and accessories mixed in with an edited collection of the old. I now walk into my living room and think Ahh I love being in here.

It feels new—it reflects everything about who I am at this point in my life. It shows evolution.

But it also means the two rooms connected to the living room are now on my nerves. They are the new rooms I hate.  They are the pretty girls who look ugly standing next to the supermodel. They too need a little botox and a wardrobe change.

Because that’s the problem with redecorating—it’s like doing laundry—it’s never truly finished. There is always a dirty sock hiding somewhere. There is always a wrinkle to be ironed. And there are always new things on the shelves at Home Goods beckoning for a look-see.