the decorating diaries: the brutal truth

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It’s been ages since I posted about the new flat, but nothing’s been happening and writing about living in and out of boxes for months on end is about as appealing as reading about it.

Everything started so well. Buying a place of our own after almost two decades of renting was a big move for us two late bloomers. but we finally did it. We chose paint. We chose wood flooring. We moved in. That’s the hard part over, right?

It’s easy to blame bad luck – Goose The Cat falling several storeys and living to tell the tale, me breaking an ankle in two places and moaning on the couch for nine weeks (and counting), and a kitchen floor being dug out (concrete and all) to look for a leak that was causing damage to our new neighbours below. We later discovered that our brand spanking washing machine had been installed incorrectly. A £5 hose would’ve saved us a lot of bother if the two plumbers and one buildings supervisor who’d come to call had correctly diagnosed the problem to begin with. Bye, bye Christmas chez nous.

Is there such a thing as post-purchase depression? Yes, yes, I think so, yes. When the four walls you’re living in represent a lifetime of saving and the kitchen doorknob falls off in your hand, it can be a bit of a downer. OK, I know. Buying your own home and moving are near the top of the most-stressful-things-you-can-do list. Getting married was easier, but then again I did send the invites by email a couple of weeks before and celebrated post-registry office at the pub. Can anyone say low maintenance?

OK, enough whinging (have I lived in London too long?). This week things are looking up. The MrMr and I took another waddle into adulthood and ordered bespoke fitted units. Yes, instead of heading to Sweden for flatpack, we’ve opted to have proper craftspeople come and fit exactly what we want.

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But, when the World’s your snotty mollusc, what do you choose? Once again, I had to put my ailing foot down (what is it with you blokes and decisions?) and bully my vision into reality. I measured, hobbled and put cursor to Adobe Illustrator. I scoured Tumblr and Pinterest (see my inspirations and the other things I wanted but didn’t have enough chutzpah or room for below). I got quotes and landed myself some chaff-free wheat. The phenomenal Declan and James are hard at work on my plans* above as I type. The dulcet tones of a power drill (and Declan singing along to Girls Just Wanna Have Fun) is spurring me on.

It’s only day two and I can already see what a difference my new units are going to make to my life. For a start, the ceiling-high stack of books behind me will have a home. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. The units have to be painted first, but what colour? And am I going to do it myself now that I have no excuse not to? Oh looky, it’s back to the drawing board (and Homebase).

inspiration
(aka other people’s lives I’d like to steal)

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* Yes, I’ll be sure to share the finished product.

Image sources here and here.

Previous decorating diaries posts here.

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8 thoughts on “the decorating diaries: the brutal truth

  1. Jess

    I feel your pain. Sometimes flat-owning feels like a litany of problems waiting to be solved, with no assistance, at great expense and great disruption. The price you pay for a place to call your own, though, which (in the end) will be just how you like it… xxx

  2. Dee's Dialogue

    nothing like custom made shelving/cupboards/whatever to organise all your stuff…we have 6metres of floor to 3m high ceiling bookshelves and it’s still not enough :)
    Hope your ankle is getting better honey xxx

    1. Kate Post author

      Yeah, they’re a life changer. I hope mine are enough for now! I think the MrMr will make me get rid of books (sacrilege!) if I buy any more. xx

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