I usually avoid the word “evolve”. In fact, I probably should have included it in this post about overused words.
But I’m going to use it now.
Since we moved into our small (576 square feet) earth-sheltered house two years ago, our family’s needs have evolved.
There. Do I get a gold star for putting the vocabulary word in a sentence?
What do I mean by our needs having evolved? Well, two years ago, I didn’t realize that the sun would stream into our south-facing windows all fall and winter long. I mean, of course after forty-some years of life on earth I know that the sun is lower in the sky during the winter, and that the sunlight comes in deeper into the house.
But I didn’t know that the rays would be annoying fifteen feet away on the opposite side of the house or that even in summer the light outside the windows would cause a glare on the computer screen.
So I need to move my computer desk.
Two years ago, I didn’t realize B would be getting a computer a year later. Because we didn’t have his room set up with a desk, we had to put it against the wall in the living room area.
Bye-bye, cozy living room area where I could sit in my rocking chair and escape from looking at a computer screen.
I want it back.
So the other night, armed with a ruler and yardstick, I drew up a grid and began to experiment with different furniture arrangements on paper. I would have to change out the five-foot long desk for the three-foot long one J recently made for me to have in the Tuff Shed, that was for sure. I tried putting the two desks right together, and the living room area next to it. But then I would have to take the coat closet out of the corner and stick it against the wall opposite the exterior door, becoming the focal point of the room when you entered the house.
Or I could do it this way…no, not nearly enough room for the two living room chairs.
How about that way? That would look weird.
I drew and erased, drew and erased, drew and erased. Asked J for some input.
Finally, I got so frustrated that I got loud enough about it that B asked what my problem was. I told him that I was trying to figure out how to rearrange furniture, and somehow ended up telling him that the long desk he was using for his computer was going to end up back in the shed.
Misunderstanding, he began to remind me that he didn’t want to put his computer on the little-kid table in his room because it was too low (which I had him try last year when he first got his computer). I told him that he was going to use the new table, and we were going to paint it.
At this, his eyes opened wide. “Oh, let’s paint it red!”
I frowned. “If you want it all red, it’s going to have to be in your room.”
“I don’t care! Let’s paint it red!”
If B sets up in his room, all I’ll have to do is move my pretty white-with-black-trim desk over to where the ugly five-foot computer desk is now. I’ll tweak the locations of all the bookcases (two tall and two short) and move a couple of other smaller pieces, but that will be easy, and cut and dry.
All that drawing and erasing, all those mental acrobatics, for nothing. Just because I didn’t ask B up front if he would mind being in his room if he had the right-sized table.
You know what they say about the word “assume.” Except I’m the only looking like a donkey here.