I open BH&G in line at the grocery store and stare at the articles: Organizing your Closet Space, Kitchen of Dreams, How to Live With Four Dogs and 30,000 Books, 10,000 Seashells Neatly---wait. No. That last article is made up. I wish.
We are collectors. Hoarders? The new popular pastime? I don't know: maybe.
You (or we-- since YOU are not getting past the door, nothing personal) can still easily navigate through the house. There are obstacles to be sure.
Altho they appear harmless, when you attempt to step over them, they lurch to their feet beneath you and loudly demand an apology for stepping on them, and treats.
This is the couch, and the view out the front. It is considered a prime spot because from here one can view the houses across the street and anyone coming in or out, the brown truck, the white truck, the mailman,
the kids going to school, the meter-readers, and anyone foolish enough to come to the front door attempting to get me to sponsor their trips to Disneyworld or anywhere else. Clearly, there is no room on this couch for company. (This rare photo was taken one day when I had cleaned the dog spit off the windows.)(This is also one of the times when Conley, on the right, did NOT fall behind the couch.)
This is the dining room wall. This is why I do not buy artwork, altho there is much I would love to have. This is a "dog wall" There is another in the living room, and another in my work/bedroom. Frighteningly, there are dog pictures scattered throughout the house in addition to these. We do not need to paint: there is no bare wallspace...
The wall is a bit bigger than it appears here-- it is hard to get a good photo of it because of that light. Also when I step back to get better distance I hit one of the "bumps" and have to spend ten minutes calming it down and feeding it treats by way of apology.
The big painting in the middle is my Dad, painting, painted by another painter who happened to be along painting the day my Dad was sitting there, under that little bridge, painting something else. The painting is by his friend, R Shuler. The other stuff is, above and to the right, a painting by my sister-in-law, Marcia, to the left above a painting by my Dad and below that a painting by a young man in Wisconsin. There is some other stuff there-- an "esemblage" by Ginny Raftery and plaque sent to me by my friend Mary... below all this is more, and SURPRISE!! a bookcase! But the bookcase contains only a few books and mostly photographs.
I have tried selling them. The markdown is unbelievable.
This is only part of the "space". Periodically I make a half-hearted attempt to clean it up and then, what do I do with stuff? Where do I put it? Am I really going to throw out my thousands of dollars (yes, really) of beads and supplies? Oh I want my space back, I really do. I want to be able to sit and paint or draw. In this room which was once a one-car garage, there are also 5 bookcases crammed full, a huge wardrobe, another desk, my stereo, TV and VCR, a full length mirror attached to nothing, a folded grooming table, 3 dog crates (large) and my bed.
