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FeedDomino Decorating
By martha wegner
I thought I was done decorating. After 12 years in this old house, nearly every wall had been painted, and every floor covered with new carpet or tile. Wood floors were refinished. New drapes were hung, new furniture was placed, and new windows were installed. I was fairly satisfied. No, really satisfied. But, just as I prepared to sit down to admire the fruits of my labor, my 14-year-old daughter had to spoil the moment: “Mom, you know the kitchen could really do with a more modern look.” I raised my weary head from the couch. What could she possibly be talking about? Sure, the cupboards were original, but the heavy oak doors with their brass handles looked just fine. And the strawberry and vine wallpaper was cheery, still relatively clean and very decorative. The white Formica counters were functional, perhaps scratched and a little gouged by knives, but still very adequate. So what’s not to like? “Just take a look at the family room,” Christine pointed out. “Everything in here is modern, with blacks and beiges and greens. The cupboard doors are a light wood finish with silver handles. The floors are tile; the rug a perfect shade of green. You did a great job. But then you look over at the kitchen, and frankly, Mom, this kitchen is pretty darned old-fashioned looking. Like it came from your childhood or something. Time for a new look.” With this withering appraisal, she grabbed a granola bar and traipsed upstairs to do her homework. My little decorator had spoken.
And so it begins, what I call the domino effect of home decorating. Every homeowner experiences it: fix up the living room and soon the sunroom next door begs for a makeover. Install new cabinets in the den, and the dining room is whining for its own set. It’s only fair, after all. Spruce up the downstairs bathroom with new fixtures, and suddenly the upstairs bathroom is complaining about its old, leaky sink. On and on it goes, like painting the Golden Gate Bridge. Just as you get to the end of the project and are anxiously awaiting a hot cup of coffee, the paint starts peeling at the beginning of the bridge. So you get up and start painting all over again.
Well, I thought to myself, at least the kitchen counters are fine. Who can argue with white countertops? My mother-in-law, that’s who. When I told her about my daughter’s assessment of the kitchen, I expected her complete support. She started out exactly the way I’d anticipated, “Oh, this kitchen is lovely.” That would have sufficed, but instead she kept talking: “The one thing I would change though, dear, is these counters. If you got new counters, this kitchen would look so much more updated.” Even my beloved counters weren’t safe from the judgments of my family, a bunch of self-proclaimed decorators.
That did it. My kitchen, which was just fine a month ago, has become a real eyesore. I walk in here now and shudder at the ’80s-style oak and brass cupboards. The ivy wallpaper threatens to take over my every thought, and the counters are not even worthy to hold my old coffeepot. I can hardly stand to cook.
Soon I am surfing the web. I should be writing. I should be ironing. I should be volunteering at the local shelter. Instead, I am secretly seeking. Looking for glossy smooth cupboard doors with polished nickel handles. Admiring shiny cobalt blue countertops, guaranteed to resist all scratches. Sleek stainless steel appliances. Every once in a while, I sneak a peek at my bank account which shouts “No!” and slaps my hand when I inquire its balance.
After a few months of saving, I’ll probably at least be able to get new cupboard doors. Then I’ll save up enough to get these very decent countertops replaced. I’ll talk my husband into helping me remove the wallpaper, and we’ll paint. It will be lovely.
But, just as I sit down to admire our latest handiwork, a kid will walk in. She’ll make a throw-away comment about the dining room table or the family room furniture. Just a little something that will keep this game of dominoes going on forever.
I’ll sigh, take a quick sip of coffee, pick up my can of paint, make my way to the beginning of the bridge, and start painting all over again.
Martha Wegner is a St. Paul freelance writer.
11 ISSUES (1 YEAR)
