everything in its place

February 21st, 2011

34



For the longest time I’ve waxed poetic over hotel rooms, and bemoaned the fact that many hotel rooms are doing it wrong. “I want to own a hotel!” I thought; I’d make it all white walls and flowing curtains, crisp white sheets and huge pillows, a pit stop of nothingness to clear your head and refresh life.  A sense that you could be anywhere, and nowhere. Unfortunately for me, very few hotels are actually like this. Or at least, like that and attainable.

Last weekend at 7:30am, sitting in the spa at the hotel in the desert with a book and watching the world wake up over a calming oasis, I tried to figure out why taking time out to read a book at home felt NOTHING like taking time out to read a book in a little zen garden. I had one of those early morning realizations where everything seems crystal clear: my house could be this serene. Maybe.

I filed away my spa realization as a “do this later” project, but it must have sunk in deeply, because within 4 days of being home, the insane clutter and mess of our house made me lose my mind. I am not a calm person in general, at all, but I really went insane and actually did some primal scream “let it all out” madness while hopping up and down like Rumplestiltskin fit to split in half. Trying to close drawers overstuffed with things, putting things on shelves and having them fall on me, stepping on the cat’s toys – let’s just say I should probably avoid parenthood because I finally snapped from the lack of serenity.

So like a woman possessed I removed objects from surfaces, piling them all on the dining room table to sort. We went out and bought under-bed storage and swept the house for extra tchotchkes, tossing/donating what we didn’t want to keep and storing heirlooms. Our mantel was packed from side to side with stuff before – it looks so much nicer with just a few photos, and sleek mod candlesticks we found in the desert. I couldn’t even BELIEVE how much stuff we had crammed into every space. It really, really makes me feel better, lighter, calmer without all the jumble – I am not inherently a collector. With 2 grandmothers dying in the last year the house was actually looking like they’d moved in, which is kind of sweet but also not us.

Whew. So that was our weekend. It feels a LOT better – even something as simple as putting the pens on my desk in a plain white porcelain container that isn’t always falling over = more calmness. The one thing that does NOT feel serene is the intense scrub-down we gave the house. That part of the hotel experience should not be overlooked – it’s definitely much more “serene” to not have to make beds and scrub toilets. But it’s nice to have everything clean and gleaming! I have no idea how my mother worked, raised 2 babies, and kept the house spotless. I’m exhausted when I get home. Until I find a solution for that, I’ll just be eating every meal on a tray to keep the hotel feeling.

There’s a lot more to do. There are 5 chairs I want to recover in a simple fabric to bring cohesion to the room. All the stuff in the work room needs to be sorted, given away, sold, or tossed. I want to paint the multicolor brick fireplace with a black stain to make it feel less chaotic. We need to get rid of some extra chairs, and work on finding really good modern lamps to keep the rooms from being too fussy. I’d like to have the 1960s mod sofa recovered in a plain black polished cotton. There’s a balance between beatnik witch and tweedy Victorian botanist we’re straddling, and it works, but it’s so easy to tip into total insanity.

Are you a collector or a minimalist? Any inspiration for those of us inbetween the 2?

Tags:  house