Monday, June 01, 2015

Married life
When we moved out of Brooklyn, I swore I would never buy Ikea furniture again.

Then we moved to Lucca and practically the first stop after the airport was to the Ikea near Florence.

We bought a ton of cheap furniture and I decided I hated it and we threw half of it out.

I spent years believing that you had to wait for old people to die in Lucca to inherit their old furniture because whenever I asked people where they got their furniture, they inevitable replied that it was passed down to them from their great-aunt.

Speed forward to today. We decide to make a coffee table. I find DIY options on Pinterest. We look at coffee tables online. We try to decide if we are going to buy one or make one. No, no we are going to make one. Should we go Sunday or just go today? Today! Will we make it back in time for the apartment to be put together when the students get here? Yes! Do you promise? Promise! F gathers the plywood togeher. I suggest that we soak steelwool in vinegar that we can add black tea to and create a wood stain. We discuss it. I change my mind. We are going to make two ottomans instead. No, just one. No, two. If there are two, we can push them together to make a coffee table or separate them to make seating. Wait. Can we make two ottomans that can open up to contain stuff? Let's just look on-line one more time. We look at the Ikea website. They make ottomans that contain stuff. Buying stuff would be easier . . . Wait. Those are really too expensive. Let's just make them. If we buy the boxes and we buy pillows and we buy material, then we can make them ourselves for much cheaper. Agreed! We go to Ikea in Pisa. They have the wooden boxes in stock. (It's a miracle.) Seconds after getting in our front door, F quickly assembles the new purchases.The latice work wooden boxes are too tall. How are they too tall? We both measured them! We remeasure them and make adjustments. F takes out his saw and reduces them by almost half and then glues them back together and clamps them down. I pin five pins on Pinterest about making ottomans and then delete them one by one throughout the day.

Occasionally this happens mid-English lesson :

Somehow we also ended up buying mattress pads, pillows, a shower caddy, lightbulbs, dishtowels, and burlap pillowcases to sew together to make a back-of-the-door laundry sorter to stick in the bathroom now that we have no room for a hamper. It was not all that economical, if we're being honest.

For the new house I want everything to have a place it belongs and to have only things that we like, know where they are, and can appreciate. There is a lot less space so we have already gotten rid of a lot.

Mind you, this all happened after F asked me if he should build a standing desk/huge wooden coffin for our printers. I said no. He built one. A big white, wooden vampire coffin. He asked me if I liked it. I said, "No." He un-built it. We discussed other options for thirty minutes. F realized they fit in the cabinet we had just bought for the living room.

So Sunday comes and we make the DIY stain. It smells like a mixture of toe mold and and farts and changes the light wood into a really unattractive greenish, gray. The rotten egg of wood colors, if you will.

The stain gets on the newly painted white walls.

We find out that their is a rumor that the pregnant lady in the best apartment of the building right above ours, the one called Snow White, might be moving out. We mentally prepare ourselves to re-do everything if they will let us change apartments.

During . . This latice work meant that even though F said we didn't need to paint inside the squares, we did. I did use his toothbrush, however.

We also decided we are going to make a mosaic print for the bedroom of this. Not one Italian person I know thinks this is a good idea:

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