I started rearranging in the bedroom yesterday and I am really happy with the result.
Oddly, it feels like we have more space in the bedroom now. Formerly there was a chair and ottoman in this corner, along with a nightstand. The chair moved to the kitchen and the rocker that was in the kitchen moved to the living room. A small chair and the laundry hamper are in the corner where the bigger chair was, leaving room for the new chest.
It's not really new of course. The lady we got it from said her mother bought the chest, a dresser with a mirror and a bed as a set in the 1930's. She kept the dresser and mirror and I bought the bed and the chest.
I was hooked when I saw these drawers inside the doors:
As you can see, we've already put them to use!
I'd like to move the bed in and replace our bed too. I've had the same bed, believe it or not, since I was first married in 1968. I am so tired of it--but it's a perfectly good maple spindle bed so I've just kept it even though I have never particularly liked it. I will move it into the new log room--I love the bed that goes with this chest and can't wait to make the change. Now I just need a new/old dresser to replace the maple one I've had for lo these many years.
Here's how I decorated the top of the dresser:
My mother (in the photo with my father) would have loved this feminine display.
That, and cleaning up the mess from moving furniture, was part of today's projects. I've also been reorganizing my "eBay room" and have made some progress towards containing that mayhem. I still have a lot to do to get it to the place I'd like it to be, and it may require some major shelf-building, but it's more manageable now. That project spilled over to closet reorganization--one things always leads to another, doesn't it?
Tonight is writing night, because writer's group meets tomorrow. I am working on a story that may become a novel--it seems to be spinning out--and a short story that may become a one-act play. Again, one thing leads to another. In the first story, two people show up at a graveyard and claim to be grandchildren of the deceased. But are they? And if they are not, why do they claim kinship? In the second story, a man gets on an elevator to find it already occupied by a vacuum sweeper with attitude. (That one was suggested by a writing prompt and a Facebook post by a former co-worker.)
So, I'm off now to the land of make-believe.