There's TV, and Then There's Me

I haven't blogged for awhile because I've been working on redecorating my bedroom. The ease with which those words roll off the tongue make it sound almost as simple as the shows on HGTV make it look. I especially love the programs in which people like me, with a budget laughable in the purview of most professional decorators, are treated to the quick redo of a room in which only paint is purchased for the transformation.
To that, I say, "HA!"
These programs begin with a few creative stars idly scanning the furniture arrangement and possessions of the occupant, and in a fast half-hour, with time out for waaaay too many commercials, voila!, a picture-perfect, magazine-ready room sparkles its way onto my tv screen.
First, in fast-motion, the room is effortlessly cleared of furniture and all clutter that daily life demands (the clutter never returns; where does it go?), and a perfect, no-regrets paint job is applied without taping, cutting in, the schlepping of stools or ladders, or covering the floor or furniture to protect from spills and spatters.
Then, lackluster, sometimes downright ugly furniture is painted or recovered with fabric that happens to be lying around, and new window coverings are fashioned from old bed sheets with the flick of the sewing machine's on-switch.
Next, before viewers' eyes, the revived furniture is rearranged in practical, yet elegant configurations that only the spacially gifted can envision.
After perusing the rest of the homeowner's meager possessions, the perfect lighting and accessories appear from the ruins. An old lamp is given a shade fashioned from sticks and a few hunks of left-over fabric; previously-ignored art is re-hung; vases that just happen to be the perfect accent color are filled with flowers from the garden and artfully arranged (I once saw dead plants made into an attractive, fake, indoor topiary, perfect for the room's new French country decor- no lie!), and recycled candles are lit.
Finally, a wide shot of the room so amazes its inhabitants that they sometimes weep for joy! Hugs are exchanged all around, and the tv stars shine while the homeowners proclaim that the new space has given them a fresh outlook and will surely change their lives forever.
Whatta load o crap.
My room took ten days, though in the end I accomplished little more than the pros on the shows do in a half-hour. I sweated, grunted, and even cried during the process. The tears came while shortening a miniblind, and believe me when I say I don't cry over decor, ever... except for this once. One morning, after the previous day's wrestling with furniture, my body ached so severely upon waking I thought I was getting some weird disease. I've swallowed more aspirin in the past ten days than in the previous year. My legs are bruised and scratched, my checkbook is empty, and half of my clutter is now on display at the local thrift store while the other half pollutes the local landfill. But the room is done.
It ain't world peace and it certainly won't change my life, but I did it alone and with a minimum of whining, unless you count the aforementioned crying or the pissing and moaning patiently endured by my dear friend and daily walking partner, Heidi.
Oh, and it looks nothing like those showplaces on HGTV; not even close. Just where are those darn decorating wizards when you need 'em?