Getting around to it

When I moved into the house I live in, there was a big mirror in the bathroom that I didn't like. I didn't like the bathroom light fixtures either, but those are more of an expense, so not getting around to doing something about them was a bit more excusable. But why I lived with an ugly mirror for so long is a bit of mystery. Then again, there's a wall in my bedroom that still has the screws in it from the last owner's paintings. So, there's lots of things that I haven't gotten around to doing.

Having a house with eight rooms, two bathrooms, and a separate garage is a lot of work. And it's work that I don't do much of.

I'm used to New York City spaces. Even though I've lived up here in Maine for nearly 20 years now, I've pretty much always lived in tiny spaces, and when I lived in another large house, it was in such serious disrepair that I confined my living to two little rooms. That's what I can handle.

Don't get me wrong - I love my house. I adore the fact that I've got an entire room devoted to sewing and crafts. I love the fact that I've got a meditation/yoga room. I love that we've got two living rooms, each supposedly for different purposes. One has lots of light and the other doesn't and has a TV in it. Oh, that's called a den, isn't it? It's also the winter living room, for it's got a wood stove, and we close off half of the house for six months of the year. But right now, the entire house is open.

Yet, I wind up doing everything in the same room, for that's what I'm used to. The "specialized" rooms wind up being holding areas for supplies. They don't see the vacuum often enough, nor do the stairs, of which there are two.

Now, if you're living in a tiny space, you're probably saying to your self right now, "I wish this woman would stop complaining." I'm not complaining, really. As I said, I do love my home. I just can't quite get used to so much space, even though I've longed for this much space all my life. I have had recurring dreams for years about discovering I lived in larger quarters than I did, and before you go rushing to find the hidden meaning in those dreams, they were quite literal, for when I moved here, the dreams stopped dead. But no, I don't now have dreams of discovering I have less space, though on occasion I do wish I lived in a little one-room cabin which I could keep as neat as a pin with ease. It's hard for me. I love neatness, but I haven't a drop of OCD in me, nor do I enjoy cleaning, so I just live with feeling vaguely bothered by the stairs that needing cleaning, the screws that need to be removed from the walls, and the I-just-don't-like-it-cause-I-don't-like-oak mirror.

So, yesterday I had the brilliant idea of decoupaging the mirror. It took me almost four years to get around to making that mirror nice. The photograph above just doesn't do it justice. Perhaps I'll take a close-up some time. For your information, the stripes reflected in the mirror are not pink in real life. They are exactly the same orange as the handles of Bic disposable razors. I didn't mean that to happen, but it did. My bathroom is becoming most wacky looking, and I enjoy that. That's something great about having a large house full of rooms, for I generally prefer calm, empty spaces without much decoration, but when one can move from room to room, I can have some places where there's whimsy. I just couldn't live with it all the time. And someday I'll figure out how to keep the place as clean as I'd like it. Well, maybe.