Jul. 20: Such sophistication

The kids’ bedroom re-do project has, in a way, moved downstairs. I was really hoping to confine it to the upstairs region of our house, but it turns out that was pure silliness of thought.

Right now there are lots of boxes and small furniture items set in the hallway upstairs, waiting for a closet or wall somewhere for permanent so many boxes placement, and also making the hallway quite treacherous. Shuffling three bedrooms involves a lot of temporary storage. Much of this storage has been found in the master bedroom, another room I was hoping could remain clutter-free during this project. Ha.

Jack’s loft bed was disassembled without incident, but its reassembly (?) in the new room has taken some time. One side of the bed had a slide, and Jack had begun to think that made it babyish so he asked Vic to take it off. No problem. The other side has a ladder, which is now quite necessary if we want injury-free dismounts from the bed. Vic made the mistake of offering to put the ladder on the slide end, and Jack loved that idea because he likes whatever is more difficult for his parents. I think Loveliest Lori’s boys must have taught him that, as I’ve heard her use that same description for them.

The bed was almost completely together again when Victor realized one entire side had to be changed if the ladder was going at the opposite end, and that meant the whole thing needed to be taken apart again. It was past 10:00 the night he discovered this, so we told Jack he’d sleep on his mattress on the floor that night and Vic would finish the bed the next day. But the next day was busy with other parts of the project, and so was the day after that. Finally, yesterday Vic went in to dis- and re-assemble and couldn’t find the Allen wrenches. We have a nice set—it looks like a Swiss army knife—that’s much easier to use than the single wrenches that come with some-assembly-required furniture, so we rarely hang on to those little ones and use our fancy-schmancy ones instead. Without them, Vic was screwed. Not literally. In fact, literally, the bed was NOT screwed—no Allen wrenches meant no dis- and re-assemble.

The minute we go out and buy another set, the other one will turn up. That’s how it works, isn’t it? But it looks like we gotta. If you need an assortment of Allen wrenches, we’ll gladly loan you one of ours.

With Jack’s bed only partly together, we can’t get the armoire out of his room to move to the playroom, nor can we move his dresser or desk out of the playroom into his room. Katie’s dresser and hanging clothes are still in her old closet (in Jack’s new room) so there is much screaming when she goes in and starts rooting around in his room for her things. I am so so so ready for this whole thing to be over.

checkmark On the “done” side, the playroom table/desk is set up in the playroom now, and the kids’ computer is connected and working. The closet in that room has been cleaned out and I have a HUGE amount of stuff from there to take to Goodwill today. Although Katie’s room is far from finished, it’s painted and really quite pretty—she keeps saying, “I love it so much I just want to squeeze someone!” (Please don’t be like Lennie please don’t be like Lennie please don’t be like Lennie…)

So how did any of this end up moving downstairs? Some of the most fragile items were put in the living room to keep them out of the way during the transition. The other day I noticed that they were all mostly musical—Katie’s electronic keyboard, recorder and ukulele, and Jack’s snare drum and bongos have all been placed near the piano. Add my flute and Katie’s microphone to the mix, and we’re the freakin’ Partridge Family!

In the interest of all things sophisticated, we’ve decided to call that corner of the living room the conservatory, or my preferred term, “conservatoire.” I know, I know—we’re way classy. Because as owners of a fancy set of Allen wrenches (that cannot be found) AND a conservatoire, well, we must be the envy of just about everyone. You’re jealous, aren’t you?



  1. I love how I'm reading how fancy and classy you are, when on the bottom half of my screen is someones bare bum. Now that's class!

  2. Sounds like a lot of work - hope things start getting straightened out again soon. :)

  3. I can't be responsible for anything T2 and T3 teach precious little Jack. Really. I can't. I'm an attorney and I know these things. ;)

  4. Extra classy would be pronouncing it "Conservatoir-ay."


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