The dilemma of the last two months: new house, old things. Having either tossed or 'spontaneously donated' numerous home furnishings on moving day, my husband is now concerned about the lack of stuff to fill the larger (and fashionably different) new house. I, as usual, am heading up the procurement team to satisfy his decorating demands: it's my task to search both brick-and-mortar and virtual storefronts, presenting him with appropriate options to choose from. He is the worst 'client' imaginable--gives very minimal specific direction, doesn't ask for much in the opening act: but then he wields his veto power for any offending potential purchase.
With new furniture now in place after 7 weeks of waiting (special order of course), I have been advised that there is not ENOUGH of it to fill the room in question. So, back to the drawing board I go, ordering the 'missing piece' (to arrive in another 7 weeks, i must assume) without even feeling confident it will be received with acclaim. The upstairs storage room---my art studio---is filling quickly with the cast-off furnishings now deemed out-of-line with the current decorating regime.
To compound matters, the new furniture is now resting atop an old (custom-made) rug; this of course cannot be tolerated! The color, the shape---it's all wrong for this new space and time! I am immediately dispatched to the rugmaker, with a whispered 'shag' comment as the only suggestion. Looking over thousands of rug samples, I am not clear on whether the shag should be of the "thin-hair" or "worm" variety; a sample board returns home with me for clarification. "Grab the sample from my car," I yell down the stairs after dinner. When the garage door opens and he enters the kitchen, sample in hand, I immediately recognize the VETO look on his face.
Why? Why? Too multi-stranded? Not light enough? Wrong color family? Too shaggy? It's a mystery still, nothing specific could be pointpointed aside from the OBVIOUS answer "It won't work with this furniture." Defeated, I will return the sample tomorrow; with the sofa cushion in hand, I should probably throw myself on the mercy of Kami the rug-man and ask him to make the final selection.
And the suggestion box sits idly by in the other room, papers and pen ready to go.