Friday, September 6, 2013

Day 33 of 365: Relics

My old college desk is now in our office/crafts room. It's a simple little contraption that I got for $15 when a fellow college student was moving out. I used it from my sophomore year of college, through graduation, to where it is now, serving as a table for my sewing machine.

My husband's desk is no different. Originally his roommates, his desk is a slightly less simple, slightly less little contraption that is possibly even older than my own. Our guest room's bedroom furniture includes the futon that served as my husband's first "real" bed and a miniature chest of drawers that has been my husband's since he was a baby.

Like most people, we have been slowly upgrading our furniture. A king bed to replace the shabby futon. A sectional to replace the futon (that had been upgraded to "couch" after our bed investment). A proper coffee table to replace the makeshift one (that my husband created with an old kitchen table and columns of wood. An actual dining room table (that we swore we'd eat every meal on before moving right back to the couch).

I've been very particular about what furniture goes where in the house. This is our home. This is where we'll be living for 10-20 years. Maybe even more. I don't want to unload like I would do in dorm rooms and apartments, knowing full well that it was okay if I messed up -- I was moving out in a year or two anyway. So I stare at a room like I expect it to move on me, meticulously figuring out where every mundane floor lamp and area rug should go.

Naturally, this means that the "nice" stuff is more on display. Our sectional and dining table and proper bookshelves. But Isaac's old desk is still in one corner of the den. A schmorgesborg of old furniture makes up our guest room. My old desk is now a table. My coffee maker -- something I've had since I was 20 -- is sitting pretty in my coffee bar, something I have no interest in replacing, even as coffee makers get more advanced.

I feel zero shame about having such relics in my house. Like a souvenir or a tattoo, they show where I've been. This desk has seen countless dorm rooms. That futon has been around for ages. That chair has a few stories to tell. They all have character and, while properly displaying my little "nest" is a high priority for me, I like my old stuff. I'll take furniture with character over a thousand generic IKEA pieces any day.

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