January 12, 2004 - Hopelessly Suburban

So recently, I began parking elsewhere, out of fear that a stray shot would hit my new car, which I call Moondance.

When I complained about this to The Gryphon, he smiled and said, "You sound so... suburban."

Well, we all have to grow up some time, I suppose.

So just like last year was the year I finally upgraded from a beat-up 1988 Ford pickup to a 2002 Ford Focus, this year is the year I've decided to stop living like a college student, surrounded by a clutter of milk crates.

To this end, I persuaded The Gryphon to come with me this weekend to look for some new furniture: either shelving or small bureaus, designed to give me some storage space. My small apartment has only two small closets, which are already jammed full.

The Gryphon suggested checking out IKEA, and I have to admit, I loved that store! You could walk through the showroom, which had a myriad creative displays of furniture and accessories. You figured out what might be useful for your needs and jotted down the information on the model style and where to find it.

At the end of the store, you picked up your items, either in the self-serve furniture section, furnishings section or the custom section.

The first time we went through, on Saturday night, I settled on some shelves I thought would be perfect for my living room. But when we actually got down to the self-serve section, we thought they might be too long for my hatchback. We decided to come back the next day, after measuring the vehicle and making better plans.

This time, I also had a notepad with some other measurements of places in my apartment where I could use additional storage. We ended up securing, in addition to the shelving, a self-serve dresser which I figured would be perfect for my small hallway between the front room and the bathroom.

The hallway has been an embarrassing mess, consisting of an overflowing milk crate with bathroom type items (moisturizers, first aid items, soap, et cetera), along with a variety of other items such as pieces of wood I once considered turning into shelves.

The setup was far from ideal and had recently begun to bother me quite a bit. I realized how terribly disorganized I was when The Gryphon asked me for a Band-Aid, and even after we searched through the crate for several minutes, neither of us could find one.

Our purchases fit neatly into the back of Moondance, once we'd put down the right-hand back seat.

We drove back to my place and The Gryphon was kind enough to put the dresser together, along with the shelving. The task took several hours, since the dresser was pretty complicated, with a bag full of fasteners and a multi-page instruction booklet. Still, The Gryphon was in a good mood as he put the dresser together, and the end result was very nice: sturdy, simple yet sleek.

He joked that he liked showing off his manly side to me. I was suitably impressed.

This morning, I moved everything out of the corner, moved the dresser into place (The Gryphon had kindly moved it near where I was putting it), and began organizing.

By the time I was done, it was a completely different space. I'll have to admit, whether it's a suburban sentiment or not, I was quite pleased.

The corner almost looks empty now, by comparison. This is a good thing, by my estimation.

The next step is to find some sort of a desk lamp to set on top of the dresser in order to bring some light into that notoriously dark patch of hallway.

Five years ago, if you had told me that I would be waxing ecstatic over buying cheap but stylish furniture at IKEA, I would have stared at you oddly and asked you what you'd had to drink.

But I don't think being "suburban" has to mean that you can't also be artistic. Currently, I have no desire to ratchet back my stream-of-consciousness school of decorating, which includes such items as Beatles posters, photos from magazines, tapestries, and yes, colored Christmas lights.

In other words, my efforts right now are more along the lines of, say, the television show Clean Sweep than they are Trading Spaces or Queer Eye. For example, I have white walls (how gauche!). But I'm a renter and as long as I'm renting, I'll have to tolerate it. No flourishes of designer red for me.

I look forward to a day when I'm not embarrassed to have guests, when I don't panic about the prospect of asking my landlord to come fix something, when I can walk around with the lights out and not risk stubbing my toe.

Now, time to tackle reorganizing the living room. Can I admit that some part of me likes that, or does that make me hopelessly suburban?

Well, I guess as long as I don't start going out onto the porch in bunny slippers and yelling at the neighborhood kids, I'm still okay.

Moral:
Clutter is no longer king, in at least one corner of my suburban apartment.