I love my studio apartment.
But no matter how hard I work at it, it isn’t stunning. It looks okay, but falls short of House and Garden. A place has to be stunning to reach that level. On a scale of 1 to 10, with 10 being stunning, my place barely earns a 5, which means that a person can live here whose standards are not very high.
I know what the problem is. It’s the armchair, the one that two cats in succession have worked hard to give that tattered look. It’s too big for the small space that is my sweet home. It kills any feng shui trying to get through. In an effort to salvage the situation, I have tried putting that chair in three different spots. It just sits there and looks at me.
No, I won’t get rid of it. I love that chair. It’s the most comfortable one on the planet. Put a little ottoman in front of it, and bada bing! — instant recliner. I’ll go before that chair does.
Note to self: Try to find a slipcover for that thing, and tell the cat her feet will fall off if she touches it.
Speaking of little ottomans, the one in front of the armchair has a towel draped over it. It looks awful, but it feels great against my legs when I put my feet up. Feels great … looks awful. Feels great … looks awful. Feels great wins. Another interior decoration disaster.
Oh, I know! It’s the bookcases that line half the wall space. They are so full of books, old New Yorker and Opera News magazines, opera scores, other music, photographs and assorted stuff that some of the shelves are drooping in the middle. A House and Garden bookcase has very few things on it, and they are arranged in neat, color-coordinated rows, broken up by an occasional Waterford crystal vase or flowering plants. I have some nice knickknacks on my shelves, but it’s hard to see them in the clutter.
Did I mention my kitchen? On second thought, forget it. You’re not ready for that.
I won’t even mention Harmony the cat, whose assorted toys and cat furniture litter my floor. Harmony is spoiled rotten. Of course, I love her.
The only conclusion I can come to is that, unlike the pictures in the magazines, my apartment looks like someone lives here – with a cat. I’ll settle for that.