The Master Bedroom

I've been writing this post for a year.  It's true, I have one sitting in draft that's about our cavernous master bedroom.  The delay was motivated mainly by lack of motivation.  How, you say?  Well, the room has been more of a staging ground than anything else.  Guests never see the room since it's the only space upstairs, so why bother?

The motivation came this week, though.  We're having an energy audit performed tomorrow morning, and I couldn't let anyone see the wreck up there.  Anyway, I was tired of boxes everywhere and crashing into things in the middle of the night on my way to the bathroom (About time, lazy!  You've only lived in the house for 14 months.  Hush, you meanie.  Your hair is still permed and you wear a fanny pack without irony! Ouch. You know how to hit a guy where it really hurts).

So here it is:

You can see that is is merely clean. Not well curated, not ready for a magazine shoot. Just ready for a visit from a stranger who will probably tell us that our house is the least efficient home in history.

You can see the room is huge.  The ceiling is only six and a half feet tall, so we can't have a ceiling fan in here (although we need one).  And I know you're crushing on my window treatments, circa 1970.  We keep 'em because they (barely) function, and new ones that I like would cost more money than I have. In fact, all our money is going toward our utility bill, hence the audit.

Aaaanyway, here's more.

A chest of drawers refinished by my loving in-laws.  And no, I don't usually decorate with stuffed animals.  But the master destroyers (named Winslow and Drew) are dying to rip these dolls to shreds, and this place, they can't reach.  You see a photo of me and my brother on his wedding day--he's now back in the U.S. after a few years in Italy.  I couldn't be happier because now I can drop my kids off at his house whenever I'm willing to drive 1000 miles to Augusta, GA.  I'm sure it'll happen all the time.

Our closet.  Yeah, it's the biggest closet in the house. And Ryan and I share it. Thank goodness I have no clothes, and Ryan's wardrobe consists solely of khaki shorts and polo shirts. He could wear the same outfit five days in a row, and no one would notice (well, maybe the smell, they would).

Our bed, resting on an IKEA frame, looks kind of pathetic.  Our denim sheets don't really coordinate well with the wall color (which I love, and will love more when we paint all this gross trim white). But the jersey sheets were on clearance (only $10!) and king-sized (we require a big sheet because one of us is a major sheet-thief.  Guilty as charged).  Upside to the low bed? Makes the ceilings feel higher. At least seven feet tall, right?

You like the calendar hanging at the window?  We found it in a cabinet after we moved in. It's from 1978.  I leave it up in tribute to Ella and Carroll.

There's still work to be done. And I've begun to sound like a broken record saying that about every room in the house.  But if the house were complete, what the hell would I do all day?