Alas, we had let the crap in our house gather in the upstairs hallway. Don't know what to do with that empty basket? Put it on the table in the hallway. Pile of school papers? Table in the hallway. Dollclothes? Hallway. I did not take a photo of it due to shame and embarrassment, but the hallway had begun to look like what you see below.
It was somewhat reminiscent of the Clampett's truck from Beverly Hillbillies. Except that their truck was way cooler. And I suspect that's moonshine strapped on the front. We don't keep moonshine upstairs. It's all downstairs. Just to be clear.
I walked upstairs all summer with my eyes closed. Deep denial was my best friend. I knew that one day my inner denial would shift. Some time in late summer I would wake up feeling empowered, organized, and perhaps, beautiful. The birds would sing, the kids would make their beds, and we would all happily head off to Ikea.
Instead, I awoke one late summer morning with the desperate need to kill time indoors with the kids because of the bloomin' heat. And Ikea suited my purposes perfectly. Feed kids. Kill time. Walk around in air conditioning because no one has exercised since the 1/2 mile walk we took in Maine to see the lighthouse in July.
It turns out that the music they play in the hallowed halls of Ikea is laced with subliminal messages like: "you can do this," "you are smart enough to handle this," "you is kind," "you is smart," and "you is important." My summer-ized, relaxed mind received the messages and I found myself full of belief. Belief in triumph over chaos, belief in my family and belief in utilizing power tools effectively. So, I planned, I bought necessary Ikea organizational items and I returned home, full of hope and energy.
Have you ever completed a project using items from Ikea? If so, you know the golden rule of Ikea: "Measure twice, pray three times, go to Ikea every day for a week and then you will have what you need for your project." The rule held true. So we went back, we ate again, I measured again, I burned incense to the god of flatpack furniture and made sure to spend some quality time in the returns line. In between visits to Ikea, we cleared out some of the clutter. We recycled, we tossed out and we donated. I got out my drill and went to it.
Behold, the craft table.
|Detail. All markers function. No crayons were broken constructing this craft space.|
Now, I can go downstairs for some moonshine. Cheers.