Dispatches From Hellpeckersville- The Spruce

Lately, as I have not been able to shake the darkness, I’ve been doing things to try to snap myself out of it. It hasn’t worked so far, but when has that ever stopped me? I’ve tried cooking new foods, being more social, reading something fun, and just giving myself a break and telling myself that this will pass. This raging cycle of anxiety, depression, and smoldering resentment. In the meantime, I thought: What if I spruce up the house a little? Change the atmosphere? Yes! Oh, this will be brilliant.

Brilliant, maybe, but not easy. Pop doesn’t want a thing changed. I understand, but honestly? Before Mom really started to leave us, she was quite sick of some of this decor, herself. Still, it’s been a stealthy business, changing out a picture here, replacing throw pillows there. Finally comes a point where I need to make a somewhat bigger, more noticeable change. I don’t have a lot of folding money, so I settle on new valances for the living room and a stretch slipcover for the recliner. Just a little face-lift, make the room brighter. We have a brown sofa and carpet, the valances and chair are burgundy, to match an old sofa and loveseat we no longer own. So I decide to order sage green–to match the beautiful throw pillows I bought.

That night at dinner I tell Pop, “Hey, that chair in there, it’s pretty beat up, still real comfortable, so I ordered a cover for it.” He nods and says, “Yeah, but red, right?” It’s a good thing I have botox, as it is my eyes narrowed, and I said, “Um, no. Why would I do that? If I wanted to keep it red I would just try to…I don’t know, wash it again or something. No, I ordered sage.” Not good. Not good at all. “GREEN? You ordered green? When we moved into this house every room in it was GREEN. The first thing I had to do was get rid of the green in every single room.” Yes, I was aware of that. I had heard the story many times, and yet, I had ordered green. I said, “Look, it was cheap when it comes, I’ll put it on, if you hate it, we’ll throw it away.” I know he was thinking that Mom hated green, but what she hated was the green on green on green all over the house. She didn’t hate green at all. When I lived next door she bought me gorgeous sage curtains–that I lost in the move BTW. That night I ordered a quilted throw for the back of the sofa.

When the packages arrived Baboo was anxious to help me change over the room, but I said no, wait. We’ll wait until after supper when Pop goes back to bed, and then we’ll do it. Have you ever tried to install a stretch slipcover on a fat chair? Baboo attempted this on his own at first. It was slapstick comedy at it’s finest, and I was a puddle of laughter until I had to help, then I was a sweaty, cranky, ball of frustration, furiously twisting upholstery pins in left and right. Finally, we had it on. I liked it, I thought it actually did look fairly nice. And it had better after what it just put me through. If I’m not going to be able to move right for the next couple of days, all I ask is that it be worth it.

On to the valances. I tell Baboo to hand them down to me and I’ll take the old lace ones off and the new ones on. He has to stand on the back of the sofa to reach the front window, and I’m right behind him because almost the entire time his arms are making like they want to wheel back, but the front window looks great…kinda. That sheer is dingy. Hmmm. We get to the side windows and it’s clear I don’t have enough valances. I had ordered two for the large front window, and one each for the door and two narrower side windows thinking that would be fine, but no it is not. Not enough wrinkle there, too flat. And those crappy sheers. Damn it.

The old man comes down for work around ten-thirty. He looks around, nods, says, “Not bad.” That is all. Gets his coffee and goes to work.

Several days later, the new panels and sheers are here. Baboo and I struggle like a couple of idiots with the thirty-year-old rods to get them up and looking good, all the while me telling him, look–hand stuff down, I cannot reach up, and him almost falling backward. I told Cleetus we need new hardware up there. The final touch is the throw for the back of the couch, once I have that on, I ask him, “Dad, what do you think?” He told me it looked nice, that Mom would have loved the throw. I told him that’s why I picked it. And then I told him we need new shades.