So, we've moved in. In fact, we've now been living here in my new flat for almost a month now..
So far, it's been going pretty well, except for the fact that we seem to be living in a constant state of "we've just been hit by a junk exploding bomb". I seem to be in a constant state of either: moving stuff, cleaning stuff, buying flat packed furniture to put stuff in, putting together said pieces of furniture, or standing back and watching the never ending circus of people try to fix my washing machine.
Below is the before and after shots of my house: The "before" shots are from the estate agent's brochure. The "after" shots are from last night:
I believe the technical term is "lived in".
I feel so embarrased having people round. On Sunday, Dr D and Calv brought our friend D around. I kept seeing their eyes look at all the piles of books, and crap, and clothes (all for good will, not just in a pile cause I feel like it), and I just felt, well, ashamed. At the time, pieces of an ikea cabinet where on the floor, which was taking C and I about 2 hours to assemble (when did Ikea furniture turn from flat packed easiness to requiring Jesus like carpentry skills?).
Speaking of Ikea, I also feel kindof ashamed that so much of my furniture seems to have come from there... I mean, it's not a like page 7 of the Ikea magazine or anything. For example, there aren't any fresh faced young couples, looking lovingly at their well behaved toddlers, playing on the floor, with their billy cabinets, in beech of course, proudly displaying pictures of them fishing, and 18 volumes of Tolstoy on the shelves. But I do seem to have aquired, over the years, and awful lot of Swedish furniture. Which is another cause of shame in my eyes... A friend of mine will wait until he's got exactly what he wants, spending weeks going from designer boutique to designer boutique, looking for one offs, like proper grown ups wanting to make their house look stylish and beautiful. I want my house to be beautiful too, but I don't fancy waiting for years to get there. Clearly I've been fully indoctrinated in the "instant satisfaction" society we live in. But still... I'd love to spend years scouring flee markets and tiny shops for the exact right one off pieces of furniture. Or at the very least, I'd like to buy stuff from Habitat. If only I could afford it.
So that's where my house is at the moment. My bedroom is sporting a very minimal, almost, japanese in nature look, with very little furniture in it. Well, what it lacks in furniture, it more than makes up for in big black garbage bags full of linen and clothes, piled on top of each other on the floor because I have no where to put them yet... The living room has a half built cabinet, and books, dvds, cds, and general junk, all around the floor in piles (organised piles darling, we aren't complete animals yet). The bathroom doesn't as of yet have a toilet roll holder, and the little nook where a desk will one day reside, is currently diplaying a lovely post modern installation, which I like to call "crap load of boxes, waiting to be recyled".
Home owner bliss/Home owner hell. Not sure which yet.