So. My car is gleaming. Last night, Mike swept out the inside, Armor-alled like a pro, and handscrubbed the Carolina bugs off of my car. He even used that stuff to make my tires shine. But the process was much funnier.
“Erica, you missed a spot. Take the bug brush over there.”
“But…bugs are a man’s job,” I said, just trying to escape kneeling in front of my car on the gravel lot.
Mike shook his head, handed me the glass-cleaner and said, “Fine, clean the windows then.” I couldn’t turn this down. I had just cleaned the windows in the rest of the house.
So I scrubbed windows and he scrubbed bugs. And when it was all said and done, he looked at me and said, “Rule number one: Don’t let Erica help clean cars anymore.” And he winked.
I smiled and thought hard about throwing a bucket of water over him. But he had just cleaned my car. I don’t think that would have been right.
It’s been a few days. Truth is, I’m not doing much. Well, maybe that’s not true. I got a new papasan cushion. Oh, and I’ve been moving around the furniture in the bedroom. Which is a lot easier now that I’ve put a skirt on Mike’s bed. Is it not normal for men to have a bedskirt? Is that something that comes with a woman? Kind of like hairdryers in the bathroom cupboard…or that painting of a naked woman swirling in paisleys over the kitchen table. Or the flower vases and candle plate on the mantle. Eep. I’ve killed this bachelor pad.
But Mike doesn’t seem upset about it. Actually, the running joke on vacation was that he had tried to do everything bacheloresque that he could before I moved in and took over. I didn’t realize how much I would take over. But I need paintings on the walls, and light in the dark corners, a wonderful lime green papasan and bedskirts and curtains and yes! All the glorious little things that make it evident a woman lives here. I’m sure Mike will miss the bachelor pad once in awhile. I’m sure of it. But I left his Maxim magazines out on the end tables, and the calendar of sexy bikini girls on the fridge. Who am I to take that away from him? And I smile.
But really, this furniture moving business is kind of a pain in the butt. Let me explain:
The back room just needs shelving. This is the room where we keep all our shoes, sporting equipment, and all of Mike’s tools. In a pile. On the floor.
The kitchen is pretty well arranged–except that the washer/dryer connection is IN the kitchen, BEHIND a shelf that we use for small appliances and pop (soda). The good thing is that we don’t have a washer/dryer right now…but that means the damn laundromat where I’ve recently lost my favorite pair of running shorts and a black t-shirt. You know the t-shirt; it’s the one you go to when nothing else looks good. And we have options for washers/dryers, so we’re working on it. Until then, the kitchen furniture rests.
And then there’s the bedroom. And this is part of me not taking away Mike’s bachelordom again. He has his TV in there. His huge, 40-something inch TV. I understand that. I’m one to fall asleep with the volume down and the picture flickering just to lull me into dreamland. Especially on days like today when the sun can’t break through, my feet are cold on hardwood floors, and the cinnamon coffee won’t even keep me warm. But it’s only 50 degrees. It’s not that cold. I am a girl who just moved here from North Carolina. I give myself one more week to complain. But here’s the thing about Mike’s…our…bedroom. It’s shaped like a funky L with a square chimney coming up right through the middle of the floor. Seriously, we can ring-around-the-rosie around the thing, which makes for fun, flirty games of chase. But that’s not the point. It really limits where we can put furniture. So my dresser, his dresser, two nightstands, a queen-sized bed, and a 40-something inch TV. Right. I’m working on it. It’s going to work.
But here’s the hard part. Because the TV is in the bedroom and not in the wildly spacious front room, what does one arrange the furniture based on? I truly feel like a 50s housewife with this question. Toward the end of the 1940s, over one million homes in the United States had television sets. So naturally, a 50s housewife, with the aid of her burly husband, would arrange the furniture around said television, right?
And I suspect it was the radio before that, even though I picture children sitting on the floor, hands around their chubby faces and elbows on their knees listening to episodes of The War of the Worlds.
But really. This front room is gorgeous. There is a marble mantle, hardwood floors, six huge windows looking down onto the main road of town, soft yellow paint. It’s fantastic! And we have a loveseat, a La-Z-Boy, a puffy chair, my papasan, Mike’s computer desk, a few lamps, three guitars and all their speaker/amp/pedal accessories, and a few things we haven’t found a place for yet. Oh. And my queen-sized mattresses shoved up against a wall because we haven’t found a way to get them to my parents’ house in Ohio yet.
So what do we arrange the furniture around? We’ve been flirting with the idea of bringing the TV out here, but Mike’s reluctance is evident. “But, how often do we sit out there?” “I guess I should quit eating dinner in my bedroom.” I think it serves as a barrier for space that we both probably need sometimes. While he’s on the computer, sometimes I’m watching TV, and vice versa. Love love love him to pieces, and he feels the same way, but sometimes, you just need to separate yourselves.
But it still leaves me wondering what to focus the furniture around. The windows? Maybe the fireplace? But it just seems so awkward to push furniture into the middle of the room without some sort of center. That’s it! Maybe we need a coffee table or something! That’d probably help. Note to self: find a coffee table…for cheap…because I still don’t have a job.
But that’s been it so far…trying to find places to put furniture. Mike and I are both going home this weekend. To our separate homes. For Mother’s Day. I haven’t been to Ohio since mid-March, and I think it’s probably time to go visit the folks again and see some friends. And it’s Mother’s Day!
So, guilt has gotten the best of me after I’ve sat here for about an hour researching TV and blogging and talking to my friends from home. Off to run.
UPDATE: Applied for a job…as a bartender. We’ll call this a summer gig if it happens. 🙂