|
|
There's always next weekendI had a plan for Memorial Day weekend. I was going to take my three days and fully renovate my upstairs spare bedroom into my home office. Of all the rooms in my house, this is the one with the most offensive décor scheme I've ever encountered. Dingy peach carpet, with brown painted trim, and a colonial toile wallpaper pattern with orange-peach, pink and mauve-y brown undertones. Who designs this stuff? Better question, who buys these patterns? The only thing saving this wallpaper from the classification of "hideous" is that it isn't flocked with velvet or metallic highlights. The toile pattern has faceless people on it, for crying out loud. When I first moved into the house, a friend joked the "wallpaper people" must come to life at night. And so, the day finally came when I had had enough of that space and I had the time and resources to do something about it. I had grandiose plans of stripping the gaudy wallpaper once and for all, painting the walls and trim, putting up shelving, and replacing the lighting fixture--all in those three perfect days of Memorial Day weekend. Afterall, they can do wonders on those TV design shows in less than 48 hours. I could surely handle this task by myself in 72 hours. That dream got shelved when my parents dropped in for a visit Memorial Day weekend. But that was okay. I never complain when Mom and Dad Latzke stop by because it's so rare that I get to spend time with them. Besides, I had the rest of the summer to work on that room. Not to worry. Before I knew it, though, June passed by and the only progress I'd made was to move furniture into the middle of the room and start stripping wallpaper. I'd made it through the first layer on two and a half of my four walls, and then I found the other three layers beneath. Three one-gallon jugs of vinegar later, I ran out of patience and I decided my little office could be a good summer project to keep me occupied. With a wall and a half to go, though, I had to postpone my renovations again because I had plans to host a friend's bridal shower at my house. And then, I had to work a few weekends. And then I had another backyard party. No problem, I thought. I still have July and August to make my office a reality. The July 4 three-day weekend came around, but it was filled with travel and activities with family and friends. Besides, who wants to spend Independence Day knee-deep in nasty wallpaper shreds and a vinegar fume haze? No, best to put that off until later in the month when I had more time to devote to the project, I rationalized. That time never came. It's now August, and I'm no closer to my dream office than I was in early June. While I have a relative paint scheme in mind, I can't seem to make up my mind about the exact colors. I have a roundabout idea of where I want my shelves and what they should look like. I just can't seem to get them bought and hung. I know what light fixture I want, but I lost the catalog that had it listed. And, I still have a wall and a half of that wallpaper to strip. The only thing I have managed to do is at least enclose the giant mess in one room that I can close the door on when company comes over. Every time someone asks about the closed door, I either make an excuse or redirect their attention to something else in the house. I've made so many excuses I think my friends may believe I'm hiding Jimmy Hoffa in there. "What's in that room, Jenni?" they ask. "Oh, that'll be the office when I'm done," I reply nonchalantly. "It's not quite finished yet....Hey, did I show you the ceiling fan my dad installed while he was here last time? Look, it's on a dimmer!" That one room's starting to become my white whale, I think. Every morning, as I pass it on the way to the powder room to get ready for work, I remind myself, "This weekend you have got to finish up that space, Jen." And, every Sunday, as I pass it on my way to bed, I think, "Well, there's always next weekend." I swear I can almost hear the faceless wallpaper people taunting me. So, before you good readers and the heavens above, I make this solemn vow. No more will that spare room be the bottomless pit of despair. I shall no longer be shackled by an inability to commit to paint colors and room schematics. I will overcome my procrastination and that room will indeed be done by Labor Day. Or by the end of the year at the very latest.
Jennifer M. Latzke can be reached by phone at 620-227-1807, or by e-mail at jlatzke@hpj.com.
1
Copyright/Privacy
Copyright 1995-2011. High Plains Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Any republishing of these pages, including electronic reproduction of the editorial archives or classified advertising, is strictly prohibited. If you have questions or comments you can reach us at High Plains Journal 1500 E. Wyatt Earp Blvd., P.O. Box 760, Dodge City, KS 67801 or call 1-800-452-7171. Email: webmaster@hpj.com |
|
