The rearrangement

Living Room v.2.0: The Lockdown Edition.

I think the ol’ lockdown managed to crawl up everyone’s keister pretty much all simultaneous-like yesterday.

Miss Mia Sopaipilla blew a hairball on the living-room carpet, which is white, because of course it is. So we started moving the furniture off it in preparation for a thorough wash and brush-up, then abruptly decided: To hell with this giant white barf magnet.

This 14-by-12-foot beast came with the house when we bought it, as did the large brown leather sofa and green leather easy chair with ottoman that sat on it. And boom, just like that, we were sick of the lot of ’em.

We don’t get a lot of hummingbirds at our lone feeder, but we have a few regulars.

“Right, off you go!” we said.

The carpet got a good vacuuming and a spot-cleaning and a listing on Facebook Marketplace. Free to good home, etc. In no time at all a young woman whose sister was moving into a new apartment rolled by to collect it.

The large leather items got shifted to a largely unused area, across from the cat tower, facing the picture window, between the living room proper and the dining room.

The furniture that had been in that space — an American-made sofa and rocker we bought from a local outfit in Bibleburg, Hearthstone, sadly no longer with us — got moved into the living room, atop a much smaller patterned area rug pirated from the dining room.

Of course, there was much vacuuming, cleaning, dusting, critiquing, adjusting, more critiquing, readjusting, and what have you. Also, some discussion about feeding the leather bits to the insatiable maw of Facebook Marketplace as well.

Finally, there were cold beverages on the back patio, for us and for the hummingbirds.

After dinner the neighbors to the west called an ice-cream social, outdoors, in the cul-de-sac, featuring homemade chocolatey goodness. Most of the ’hood turned out for a treat, some casual gossip, and the nightly 8 p.m. howl, all with proper plague management, of course (bring your own spoon and chairs).

The ice-cream maker was hoping his amateur-league baseball might resume soon. Another neighbor was thinking about her son, a freshly minted Marine awaiting deployment. The new parents on the corner couldn’t make it, because infants could give a rat’s ass about ice-cream socials in the cul-de-sac, even if they knew what rats’ asses, ice-cream socials, and cul-de-sacs were. And a more experienced dad was dozing with his youngest in front of “PBS Kids.”

We were just happy to be there, and rid of that damn’ carpet. It’s the little things.

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21 Responses to “The rearrangement”

  1. khal spencer Says:

    Looks nice. Of course I barely remember what it used to look like since I was there only once or twice.

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      It helps that we moved in just under six years ago, from a smaller house. That’s not a lot of time to acquire a lot of new shit we don’t need and can’t afford that’s overpriced and doesn’t work.

  2. Dale Says:

    I like that rocker (mission style?). If you tire of it, just put it on the curb – in Maryland – on the eastern shore – at my address. Thanks.

  3. Stan Thomas Says:

    Where’ve you put your Peleton?

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      No Pelotons, curse its name, we hates it forever. Since our state stay-home edict permits short bursts of outside exercise, once the ankle was ready for it, I got off the trainer and out the door. It was 75° before noon here today. This old cripple already has tan lines! What the hell?

  4. Gorge in the Shawn Says:

    Well, I don’t know…? You just don’t have enough junk, nick-nacs and other non Feng-Shui stuff around burdening your space as might exist under the roof the I reside in. Give stuff away? Why should I do that. I’ve only had it for 25 years !

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      I have a renter’s mentality, I think. If you move a bunch, which I have — two countries, 11 states and one Canadian province, and nearly 20 towns (some of them more than once, not counting moves within towns) — you lose interest in fetching a ton of crap along with you as you cross various state lines to no particular purpose.

      I used to be able to fit everything I owned in the bed of a Japanese pickup. The itty-bitty four-cylinder ones, not the things Toyota and Nissan are churning out these days. And of course the dogs rode up front.

      This occasionally meant surrendering items I wanted to hold on to, but happily the world is full of stuff, and I learned quickly that I could acquire more of it at my next stop.

      It would be interesting to get medieval on the possessions around here. What do I really need? Not 15 bicycles and nearly as many Macs, that’s for damn sure. Not even Dodge makes a truck that can hold all that crap.

      • khal spencer Says:

        I recall the fall I moved from Long Island to Honolulu. Everything I could carry in a leftover seabag from my NROTC days and two bicycles. Several crates followed a few months later when the U of Hawaii finally admitted that it had promised me moving costs, holding pots, pans, some Corningware that I refuse to ever sell, and a stereo I probably should have given away along with the garage sale dining table and Plymouth Horizon with a worn out clutch.. Sold the motorcycle the year before to make rent.

        Sadly, I’ve pretty much lived in one place for long periods of time ever since, which gave me time to collect crap for no other reason than to collect crap. Moving from BombTowne to Fanta Se and downsizing the square footage by a third sort of required a painful Letting Go Of Stuff. But it didn’t kill me. Yet.

  5. Pat O'Brien Says:

    A neighborhood ice cream social on the cul-de-sac, and you didn’t call us? That’s almost worth a 400 mile drive!

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      That was really nice, Paddy me lad. The folks to the west of us are always first to lend a hand or give a gift. Homemade cookies and ice cream, dog-walking, cat-sitting, you name it, they’re ready to tackle it.

  6. DownhillBill Says:

    Weird. I live by the theory that “it’s not clutter, it’s an object-rich environment.”

  7. JD Dallager Says:

    PO’G: As many do, you live in a well-connected, “we’re all in this together” neighborhood that lives, demonstrates, and celebrates the uplifting side of mankind. May we all also support those who may not be as fortunate or resource able.

    • Patrick O'Grady Says:

      Well said, JD. I’ve mentioned before how fortunate we are, to be (a) employed and (2) working from home. We are trebly lucky to have found a home in this cul-de-sac, where the neighbors really are neighbors, not just strangers who happen to live next door.

      We’ve used our tax refund and DonnyDollars® to support local organizations that care for those who weren’t born on third base, a practice we recommend to everyone who has a dime or two that isn’t committed elsewhere. Herself also serves as a volunteer tutor when the schools are open and is a precinct committee chaircreature for the local Donks.

      My only charitable works are the blog and podcast, which don’t exactly house the homeless or feed the hungry.

  8. Herb from Michigan Says:

    Around these here parts moving furniture and giving away things usually devolves into fights and hard feelings. I’m with you on traveling or living fast and light. But I bunk with a pack rat who can’t stand to see one inch of counter or shelf space unoccupied.
    I do sneak things off to the thrift store and local habitat for humanity depot. Haven’t been caught (yet)

    • Shawn in da Gorge Says:

      Isn’t that a great feeling when items are “snuck” off and given to charity et al, and then a day or so later said items were forgotten to have been had.

      My problem is that I have a warehouse full of said items and only one lifetime to give them away. Perhaps a big fire…

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