Rearranging

Instead of heading out to hunt Legendary Pokémon Eggs, released as a result of activities at Pokémon GO Fest in Chicago, I took advantage of a sudden burst of energy, that hit me 6:30 p.m. Saturday and began rearranging furniture.

How I managed to move the heavy mahogany wood couch and the chest sitting in the middle of the area rug is beyond me, but I managed it without pulling my back out or reinjuring the shoulder I messed up moving bookcases around three years ago.

I didn’t think to take a before photo of the living area, but managed to find a photo where you can see the couch was up against the wall … facing the television, patio sliding door at my left … where the sun streaming through in the mornings would act like a magnifying glass and heat that area up to where I’d become uncomfortably hot sitting and napping there.

Now the couch is facing the patio.

I can still sit comfortably and see the television from this arrangement, but now can enjoy the sunshine without cooking myself.

This senior apartment feels smaller with the new arrangement, but I think the area looks more inviting, cozier. I’m thinking I might even be able to squeeze in a small cross-trainer in the space between the area rug and the corner bookcase. Maybe one of those fold down/fold up types – but it’ll have to come pre-assembled because, after putting that indoor cycle together, I’m not up to assembling any more exercise equipment.

The energy boost was still with me this morning, so I set about dusting, polishing, washing walls, hanging photos.

Actually, I only hung one – adding that Michonne needlepoint to the Feng Shui fame corner.

Because I’m not good at hanging photos, without them coming out crooked or tearing up the wall, pictures usually just sit on the floor, up against the wall – like Michonne did these last few months and like these three beauties have been since 2012, when I first moved in.

I want to hang them.

I think about hanging them.

But it’s such a daunting task.

That hope chest in the middle of the area rug has an interesting story.

It was made by the father of an elderly church friend of daughter’s as her high school graduation gift in the early 1900’s.

Her dad went out to the woods, chopped down the trees, did whatever it is they do to wood and made the chest by hand.

Why daughter’s elderly friend would ever want to get rid of it, instead of gifting to a relative to keep in the family, I do not know, but she and daughter were very close. So, when she informed daughter she’d turned the chest over to a consignment shop, daughter asked me for money to purchase. Daughter is all about preservation of the past but, instead of giving her money, I purchased the chest for her as an early Christmas gift.

Fast forward a few years … daughter no longer wanted the chest and gifted it to me. Daughter never said why, but my spidey sense tells me it’s because daughter was hurt at being rejected by that elderly friend, and the church they were involved with, when daughter came out as gay.

I wouldn’t give this chest away, not for nothing, even though inside are items of my long deceased ex-husband (daughter’s dad) she wanted to keep – like his cop uniform and cop awards.

It is unclear if daughter’s elderly friend is still living, as daughter put the rejection behind her and moved on to a more accepting congregation. I myself feel nothing but good energy coming from the chest, especially since in addition to the story of how the chest came to be, daughter’s elderly friend included a photo of herself on graduation day.

Frank & Hugh College (High School)
Clifton, Tennessee