About twenty years after we bought our wee stone house, it came to our attention that it was a "Craftsman bungalow." That term might lead you to expect that the house is only one story, but not so -- the original term designated a storey and a half, which explains, I suppose, why our only bathroom is upstairs. It is understood that if either of us breaks a leg, the breakee is to be shot. I have a dream once or twice each year in which I am wandering through our home and discover a hither-to undiscovered main floor bathroom. Such joy. Then I wake up.
So, getting back to furniture and the lack of fishing, what pieces we had bought were always mission oak in style because we intuitively realized that they best suited our house. And here was the opportunity to substantially increase our storage capacity (again, small house) without breaking the bank. The only problem that we foresaw was that these pieces were unfinished. A hundred dollar can of specially matched stain later, we were good to go. I couldn't wait to have a wardrobe in the bedroom in which Jon could stash his weekly pile of "clothes I might wear once more."
About to finish Piece #4 of five, Jon said, "Did we check to see if it would go upstairs?" We??? Isn't that the man's job?? I'm sure I remember hearing it stipulated in the wedding service. After much bristling of measuring tapes we came to the conclusion that the wardrobe might go up; it had equal odds of wedging at the bottom of the stairs, leaving us short two bedrooms and the bathroom.
We are similarly wedged into the position of having to finish and place the new furniture before our real lives can resume. I should have mentioned that not only our garage but that of our wonderful neighbours is housing this stuff and we're all getting antsy. Jon would rather fish and I would rather paint. They would like to be able to get their bikes in and out. No such luck for the immediate future. We are thralls to woodcraft, serfs to case goods, enslaved by our raw greed for drawers that work. This painting serves as a reminder of the golden era when Jon and I had our priorities right.