Four years ago, we decided to put our house on the market. We felt we needed more space, another bedroom at least, and we were willing to jump through some serious hoops in order to make it happen. We scrubbed and sanded and decluttered and worried and worried and worried. We still live in the same house.
What I’ve learned is that we all, all of us, are willing to go to great lengths in order to see someone else want to purchase our house, but we’re very rarely willing to do the same amount of work for ourselves, while we live there. Which makes no sense at all. I just repainted the laundry room and made it a Martha Stewart fantasy, a task I have put off for four years because we were always thinking of selling and it seemed like a waste of effort. Except that I like it better painted, and could have enjoyed it all these many years, if only I’d taken the time. And the irony, of course, is that the house would have been much more likely to sell if I’d bothered to make it a place that I really liked and wanted to sell instead of mentally checking out and thinking that someone else would be enthused about buying my half-finished decorating jobs.
So this year, I’m buckling down and I’m doing the projects I’ve put off. Because dagnabbit, this is MY house, and I want it to be warm and inviting and cozy and a HOME. There is sewing in every room, and I’m documenting each and ever project. Tutorials abound, but more than that, I hope I’ll be a little more honest about just how much of a difference a tiny bit of sewing can make in the way I feel about a room.