I moved into my apartment six years ago and it took me a year to believe that it was mine, and that nothing was going to mess it up. I’ve been through some things. This picture is from the first few months of quarantine, I think. I’m pretty sure because I got those roses at target the last day that I worked before going inside. For what turned out to be three months. Now I think we should have just carried on like normal because things don’t seem to have gotten better and now, after finding vaccines and shipping them… we have mutant strains.
But this post isn’t directly about Covid-19. It’s about what happens when you suddenly have time and money to make a better, more comfortable, home instead of just a place you stay in between shifts.
Just constant mess. Stepping over boxes from deliveries and trying to find room for things. I’m in a large-ish studio, well larger than some people’s teeny tiny closet apartments, and I’m extremely grateful for that, so the hardest thing was just figuring out what area should be where. I started reading a book on feng shui before lockdown,and I had already started by moving the bed over by the window, but there was a lot more to do. I had to get rid of a hulking clothing rack in the living room, figure out where to put my desk and the kitchen table and the front room had to be rearranged. Luckily I had nothing but time. And an extra $600 a week.
The Personality Test:
I’ve never had the opportunity to really decorate anything. One, no money. Two, lack of ideas and information. Like, what do people do with their homes? What looks good? What do I actually like? After a stint in a museum gift shop (that’s where I got the feng shui idea), I had a little crystal collection and a Himalayan salt lamp, and I had started to buy plants, another thing that I had just never done. Which is wild. There were no plants in our home when I was growing up. Not even a homemade avocado plant. No green. My mom was into animals, cats, fish, dogs. All badly taken care of, just like her kids.
Sorry. That happens lately. I’ve spent so much time alone and thinking, that along with a new ability to decorate, I now remember why I felt like I didn’t deserve nice things.
The Nice Things:
So I bought myself a filing cabinet, and a little storage unit for the bathroom. I got a lovely antique mirror from Brooklyn Vintage Company (they delivered just like the wine shop) and I used my arts education to do stuff like make marbled pencil holders out of plastic bottles. I painted an old mannequin leg that I found in the street a few years ago, and organized the closets. I got a shelving unit to put my soap and packing supplies together. I used an old board from my diy bathroom table to create more storage space on top. Now that’s my little office type thing. Much better.
The Paint Job:
Now I’m up to wall treatments. I’ve been dying to paint the front wall red, and after messing around with sample stickers and such, I got Behr paint sample (8 ounces) from Home Depot and got to work. I got reusable wallpaper from target for the bathroom, and I’m using that to redo the outlet covers. I found a glass pumpkin at goodwill and painted it. Im iffy about the color I got for the bathroom wall, but work with it.
I’m a long way from finished, but my space feels more like the me I’ve been trying to be. I deserve a beautiful place to inhabit and flourish in. It sucks that it’s taken so long to get to this point, but oh, well. It did take this long. It just did. This is when everything came together. I’m working on accepting that.