Moving day was, in a word, overwhelming. The movers put things down, and unless their placement impeded foot traffic, things pretty much stayed. The bed was set up along the wall closest to the door, and I hated it. The room didn't work. It felt close and so cramped and never, ever tidy. I could never figure it out. I would just stand in the doorway, puzzling out what to change to make it work.
Then, during #Nemo, having run out of other conversation, I complained to my pal Chelsea about it, and she suggested that I move the bed.
I'm not big on moving furniture It just seems like a hassle. I keep things under my bed (bins of running clothes, unframed art, extra wipes, etc), and I hate moving them, because then I have to own up to how much dust gets under there (what's even the point of a dust ruffle if it can't do that?) Generally, once things are somewhere, they stay. But, again, we were, literally, snowed in, and had time on our hands, so we moved things around.
And, now I love it.
The dressers are from my favorite antique store in Brooklyn. James keeps his socks in the top drawer, which I find functionally - and morally - offensive. I keep my underwear in the top drawer, like a normal human being. Socks and pajamas in the bottom drawer.
Ages ago, I posted a photo of my bedroom in Brooklyn on this blog. A friend commented that it looked like our first apartment in Rexburg. I imagine that this looks much like both of those as well. Far too summery for the actual climate (those sheer curtains are a joke against icy winds and drafty windows) and with a clear bent toward white. I'd be willing to bet our next place will bear some resemblance as well.
I took the photograph pictured here. In a moment of total abandon I framed and hung it. It was actually placed above the dresser in the room's previous arrangement. But, after we got everything switched, it just stayed. Laziness might be my design philosophy.
The larger piece is miniatures of Comic Frenzy posters from college. The smaller piece is a gift from a friend.
And this is a print of Edward Cullen that states "I drink your blood" in French.
It's a good room. The closet is achingly small, and only James keeps his clothes in it (Tiny and I share the closet in her room). But the room is small and easy to maintain. When I have the wherewithal to get up and make the bed in the morning, it feels tidy all day. It's freezing these days, but we have flannel sheets and wool blankets and that's what makes Massachusetts Massachusetts.