So, people who have been following this blog know that in our old house (the one 2 doors down from here), we tended to have a little mouse problem (like, um, the Israelis have a little Palestinian problem). And the woman who owned this house never got mice. That fact alone made it worth the extra 110,000 dollars to buy it, in my opinion.
Maybe it's us - maybe we are just rodent-attracting folks. All I know is I'm late posting tonight because I've been cleaning mouse poop out of silverware drawers and cabinets and trying not to think about the fact that we used silverware from those drawers today and, um, put them in our mouths, as a matter of fact......excuse me a moment while I go throw up.
Okay, let's change the subject, shall we? I think that would be a healthy idea. Larry took me to IKEA today. I didn't feel well enough to go (this cold seems to have a hankering to turn into pneumonia), but if I had refused a trip to IKEA on terms of ill health, Larry would surely have called 911 in a panic. So I went. We ended up bringing home 2 chairs for our unfurnished den - the beautiful Ektorp armchair with the flowery slipcovers that I had been lusting after for months (and at 40 percent off, as is!) and the depressing dark navy mini-recliner that Larry chose. Because he likes ugly furniture, apparently.
May I add that our den is painted dark grey (sets off the white brick fireplace and wood trim very nicely)? Dark, as in it needs bright furniture to keep it from feeling like the inside of a mausoleum?
So, now that we have the chairs home, it is obvious to anyone who isn't color-blind (or male) that Larry's chair doesn't belong in that room. Or any room, really. I'm trying to think how to break this to him gently. Not being pregnant, I can't use the hormonal-craziness method of getting my way. (Although, maybe menopause qualifies? Am I the only person who still remembers Edith Bunker having a fit because the suitcases were black?) Anna suggests that I just take it back to IKEA on my own, and when Larry asks, I can say, "Chair? What chair?" (I'd like to point out that Anna and I are actually bonding a little over our shared dislike of this piece of furniture.) Another option I've considered is to leave a note on it tonight that says, "The chair goes....or I go."
I don't know if I should risk that last one. He might call my bluff.
Isn't the woman supposed to choose the decor, anyway? I mean, Larry has the back deck and the front and back yards to mess with. I happen to think this is yet another instance where traditional gender roles are important. Perhaps our society's wholesale abandonment of them in the 70's precipitated this whole 50-percent divorce rate thing. I can just picture it: men and women, all over the country, calling their lawyers over irreconcilable interior decorating differences.
Or maybe I'm just rationalizing my determination to get rid of this chair. This dark, depressing, makes-Larry-look-like-his-Dad-when-he's-sitting-in-it chair.....
I'm queen of the house, my husband is king of the yard. There are some overlapping boundaries in which compromises are made, but generally speaking, we're into the traditional gender roles when it comes to the house and yard. Good luck on getting rid of the chair . . maybe if you planted some mouse poop on the cushion??? God bless.
ReplyDeleteNo, you are not alone. I remember Edith Bunker and her onscreen change of life.
ReplyDeleteI don't think I would go messing with Larry's chair. After all, he did take you to Ikea. And, in my book, that's love.
I am so with you on the man gets the outdoors to mess with idea. And I would give him ownership of eradicating the mouse issue even though it is inside. After all, they come from the outside. I swear the rodents liked our house in the past because of all the crumbs my kids left all over. (And the hidden sandwiches under the bed, candy bars in secret places, old glass of milk in drawer, etc.)
ReplyDeleteSounds like you're going to have a nice room there, for blogging? At least you got your chairs at a good price. Just pretend you don't see your husbands'.
ReplyDeleteI don't know, I think if he calls your bluff you're better off. Where would you go? I'd be making a list of destinations right this minute.
ReplyDeleteCondolences on the mice. We have loads of hawks and owls outside. I'm fairly certain there are no mice within a 1/4-mile perimeter.
I don't what to tell you about the chair. My husband and I had a seven year stalemate (sp?) over living room furniture. I do not jest. Seven years we lived with a ugly futon because we could NOT agree on furniture. Everything I liked, he thought was uncomfortable and everything he liked I thought looked like a big brown turd.
ReplyDeleteKeep the chair, you're BONDING WITH ANNA. Ugly or no it might be worth it ; )
ReplyDeleteWe have had mice in our silverware drawer before. Famous last words.... "Oh, I wonder how that plastic spoon got chewed up in there. Oh - I'll just throw it out later...." and I went on serving up breakfast. Boy did I regret that decision to not look into why there was a chewed up baby spoon in the drawer right away.
ReplyDeleteThe good news is no one died, I guess.
What if the chair becomes a piece of patio furniture?
ReplyDeleteJill
I realize I'm months late with this comment...it's who I am.
ReplyDeleteBut I so feel your pain!! Donn has all sorts of interior design opinions! Maybe he and Larry could get together and decorate a den or something, and get it out of their system?