Don't you love a false sense of accomplishment?
Yesterday I was on the phone with Susie Sunshine for just under three hours. Yes, THREE HOURS.
After a morning like that, you'd think I'd feel like a total sloth, but you'd be wrong. Because last month I scheduled a rummage pick-up, and the truck came by today.
They came to take away the Sheraton-style love seat that has been cluttering up my living room since the new sofa arrived from Ballard Designs. But while they were there, I got them to take the old L. L. Bean futon and frame and the Ikea kiddy table off the front porch.
I guess I haven't mentioned that last Wednesday, I found a white wicker table and chairs at a local antique shop, shut my eyes, and handed over my credit card. They're cute, they fit the space perfectly, and what could be better than another place to sit and eat? Now, no matter what the weather, we have a full range of choices of places to sit and feed our faces.
They were delivered on Saturday. They look awesome! And made for a half-way attractive porch. I say half-way because my old furniture was pushed down to the opposite end of the porch waiting to be junked. It was like I had a split personality, half Martha Stewart, half Fred Sanford.
But now the truck has gone away with my junk on board, leaving me with an almost clutter-free porch. All I have left is a few packages to mail, conveniently located out of the range of this picture:
And just think--I totally get my money's worth of any bouquet I put on the new table, because I can see it from the living room, too. What a deal! (I jest. I cannot tell a lie. I grew the roses myself. And cut them with my little hatchet.)
I have a feeling that the decorating books probably wouldn't approve of the Big Boy bank, Disneyworld snow globes, bowl of shells, and broken timer. Well, maybe the Domino book will be OK with it, but let's hope the Schumacher book doesn't notice my inner Fred manifesting itself.