Moving house is hard work. I love a bit of manual labour, but the constant decision making is what makes it so exhausting I think. On one hand, what to throw/give away, what to keep, how to pack it all logically. The logical packing obviously goes completely out of the window after about the 3rd box, which means I spend the unpacking portion of the move cursing my short sighted self.
And then, once you get into the new house, unpacking boxes and having to make sensible decisions about where things should go. And knowing that if you don’t get it right the first time, you’ll probably never get around to rectifying it, because you know. You’re lazy. We suffered 15 months of the glasses being miles away from the sink in our old house because I just shoved them in the cupboard and shut the door just to get them out of the way thinking I’d swap it round later and I never did. And then we moved house.
But do you know what makes it all worth while? The traditional day after moving ikea meatballs. Nah, just kidding. It’s this fireplace and this chair. Welcome to my life, STRANDMON.
Normally a wingback chair wouldn’t do it for me, but the combination of the lovely tapered legs, the modern grey upholstery and the fact that it is so freaking comfortable won me completely over. I never, ever want to move from this chair.
Since that picture, we have hung our Stendig calendar and some pictures in the alcove, and it’s starting to come together. Which makes up for the fact that our kitchen looks like a bomb has hit it. (side note: as a child, I thought the phrase ‘bomb has hit it’ was all one word, as in bomazitit. I had no idea what people meant when they said my bedroom looked like a bomazitit).
Tonight we are going to start building the tabletop for the dining table. The kitchen, I should mention, is huge. We taped out a 2m long table and it looked ridiculously dinky. Instead we’re going for 2.5m of coppery woody goodness. Ohhhhh yeah. Bring on the medieval banquets.