The bookshelves aren't done, but the painting and curtains and carpet and desk are all in place. I have a pink room -- I shake my head at the very thought, but my peony print looks lovely against the wall. It's a pale pink -- in the dizzy atmosphere of the paint section of Wal-mart, I'd selected this pink and a much hotter, brighter pink with the idea of using those special pattern rollers to blend them into something lovely. I've done it in four other rooms in the house with great results each time.
I got about halfway around the room when I concluded it looked like I was killing Valentines with a woodchipper. The two colors did not blend into anything attractive. It looked like a scene for a forensics expert on bloodsplatter. Luckily, the darker color was not a real heavy pigment and the light pink covered it up nicely. So, I have a pink room. With the rose curtains and the pale tan/peach/blue pattern on the oriental rug MIL gave me (it's the real deal, an actual Oriental rug, bought overseas and quite nice, and the dark wood furniture that will be going in, and the burgundy and dusty rose fabrics that will also come into this room, I think it will not be so much "pink" as "warm and cozy".
I'm so strange. I love lace and beads and frilly frou frou just fine, thank you, but I tend not to have them directly in my house, or even prominent in my wardrobe. I eschew the traditional "feminine" look of things while liking it just fine. I'm conflicted about such things, and here I am with a pink freaking room and I like it.
Ok, I'm gonna call it "Peony" and be done with it. "Pink" just makes me shudder. Once Husband finishes the bookshelves and I get them loaded, I'll take some pictures.
I'm sitting in here now, on one of the dining room chairs. The antique desk is obviously designed for much shorter people and Husband is going to get some casters for it to raise it up a bit, and we will probably get me another chair -- the dining room chairs are fine if you are only on them long enough to eat, but for hours of sitting at a computer, they tend to bite one's but. MIL also gave me several sheepskin rugs (actual sheep's skins, complete with wool) and I folded one to put on the seat. One of them covers the floor in front of the window, under the cat bed I dug out and placed there. Benny has declared this room his own, and has slept in that bed most of the afternoon. Now, that bed has been sitting under the cat condo for 5-6 months, and behind a chair in a corner of the living room for a year or so before that, completely ignored. With cats, it's all location, location, location. He also likes the sheepskins. In fact, all the cats have spent some time on one or other of the rugs, lounging and kneading and looking smug.
So I'm sitting here, and I've been writing. That was the point. I have to start back on the writing discipline I had at the beginning of the year. It worked, for one thing. I have to retype some of my stories so I have electronic copies of them once more. Then I have to back them up so that I don't LOSE them again.
And then I have to write, and write some more, and do the sending out of manuscripts and the collection of rejections...oh, I don't know if I can manage this.