Moving Mental Furniture


I rearranged my living room furniture. Which is to say, I pointed to various locations and said to my husband, “there, no I mean there, six inches that way, wait, no, over there is better.”

We’ve lived in our home for nine years, and we have both complained about the layout of the living room for almost as long. The chairs are too far away from each other, when you sit on the sofa, you look into a dark dining room, and there’s no place to put my tea (or wine, depending on how the day is going). Totally a first-world complaint.

Every time we contemplated moving things around, however,  we always decided that the alternatives, for a myriad of reasons, couldn’t possibly work. Plus, if we moved the sofa, we’d have to move the area rug, which means we’d find out just how dirty the area rug is. On the flip side, we’d find nine years worth of missing cat toys and maybe enough spare change to go out for dinner.

Rearranging the living room was sort of like middle-aged sex. When one of us was in the mood, the other was too tired, nursing a sore back, or in the middle of doing the taxes/laundry/reading a good book. Sunday, we finally decided we had nothing better to do than give the sofa a change of scenery.

Now that the furniture is re-arranged, the room finally feels like home. The traffic flow is more welcoming, the foyer is better defined, and that big picture window finally has a purpose. It’s funny how that works, isn’t it? We get so set in our ways, thinking there is only way way things could possibly work, until we try another way and find it works even better.

It made me wonder how other parts of my life are organized. I’ve struggled with redefining who I am with the Dude in college. Even though my time totally my own again, I’m feeling stalled, treading water through time. Maybe my mental furniture could use some rearranging.

If I change my habitual behaviors, my notions of what a “day” looks like, maybe I’d find a new corner with a view of the garden, or rediscover a story that I’d been looking at forever and not really seeing. If I let go of how things “were” or “should be” maybe my thoughts and energy would move in new directions.

If I release myself from expectations and the fear.maybe I’d trying something that doesn’t pan out, instead of living with something I know only works marginally well. After a few misses, I might find a place to put my teacup, or my glass of wine, depending upon how the day is going.

I’m ready to start rearranging the bedroom next. My husband says I can’t until I buy another bottle of Advil and learn the difference between right and left. Until that happens, I’ll have to be content with looking under my own sofa cushions. Heaven knows what I’ll find in there. I’ll be sure to let you know.

 

 

 

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