I spent an inordinate amount of time contemplating rugs this past weekend. Arguing about rugs, looking for inspiration on how to style different rugs, shopping for rugs, vacuuming rugs, straightening rugs, rolling up rugs. The fact that I could spend that much time on rugs tells me that my life must be pretty cushy, overall. But the arguments about rugs are also about other things: money, and how to spend it; aesthetics, and how other people judge you based on your living space; mobility, both in terms of class and in terms of whether we’ll be in this apartment (or this city) 6 months from now. So, this weekend was about rugs, and about all of that other stuff.
I guess maybe it means that we’re growing up, too, and that we’re coming to think of our crappy little apartment as home, which is kind of nice. A couple of years ago, our furniture was all hand-me-downs cobbled together as best we could. Now, we actually invest in pieces to make our home our own.
In the end, most of our work was rearranging, reconfiguring, readjusting, renewing. The apartment feels a little more like us, and we get to show off a bit more of the one nice thing about this apartment: the hardwood. Insert innuendo there.