New wreath, old couch

It’s sort of amazing to think that we’ve lived in this house for eight and a half years. Even more to think we’ve lived here this long without figuring out what to hang on the hook on the living room fireplace, despite years of considering. :-) It’s sort of a hard spot – too sunny for a lot of the flowers, fake flowers, eucalyptus, or sedums… I was worried they’d fade. The room has a lot of color already with the green walls and red furniture. The paneled wood ceilings and walls have their own texture and personality. We don’t have a formal house but this is probably the closest we have to a formal space. Puzzling…

But suddenly, I found a driftwood wreath from Oregon online a few weeks ago that seemed like it might work beautifully, colors, texture, and all. They shipped it out, and it looked nothing like the picture, terrible, I was so disappointed. But I wrote the company with the listing picture and the one I got side by side, and they sent a replacement for free, and I like it so much.

I’m including many pictures because this may be the final evening of the red couch.

We have a potential buyer and his wife coming at 10:30 am (from 45 min away, and they offered to drop off a deposit on a $100 couch tonight, so they seem more committed than your average craigslist buyer. Fingers crossed.) The fact that I’m not more nostalgic seems proof that it’s time to move on. This is the couch where I napped while pregnant with Henry, breastfed two babies, and successfully worked from home for a year and a half! It’s our Kirkland apartment, Greys Anatomy, and Larry. Our first piece of real furniture. (Kevin bought it, then when we moved to this house, I coopted it.) But it hasn’t fit this room for nearly a decade, and can’t wait to find something that does.


I will miss the wonderful red color, and cheery shape, and comfiness, and memories. So maybe the next couch will have gorgeous red pillows in tribute. :-) But here’s hoping the people like it tomorrow, and whisk it away, and we’re left with space to fill.

Busy

Someday Claire will no longer be three, and we won’t walk into the kitchen at 7:14 am to get the kids breakfast and find her hard at work, singing away, affixing stickers (to paper this time, thankfully), in attire of her choosing.

Photo credit: Kevin