Last night (or perhaps some other past night depending when you might be reading this), Slaveboy and I were lying in bed when I brought up the subject of my built-in wardrobe which currently is very underused. Each winter, the wardrobe suffers from slight damp issues and each winter, I gradually use the wardrobe less and less. I batted the idea of ripping out the wardrobe permanently at Slaveboy, an idea that was originally his so you can excuse me for thinking that it was a pretty safe bet of an idea. I was told a categorical NO, as we really can’t afford to re-carpet the bedroom at the moment. Crestfallen, I accepted my fate of forever having to live out of my massive blue Ikea bag and put myself to sleep, not forthcoming to any advances for cuddles, spoonings and whatnot.
Fast forward the next day, en route to getting some cooking chocolate for my pop-up cake stall on Saturday, we stopped by at a local hospice’s charity shop. Immediately, both of us clapped eyes on this stunning Art Deco wardrobe with immaculate wood inlays and bevelled mirror. It was an object of beauty.
And perfect for the bedroom.
If we were to rip out the built-in wardrobe, lay new carpeting, replaster part of the ceiling and paint the walls.
As I was fondling this beautiful wooden erection, I notice another (undeserving) couple eyeing up the same wardrobe. I had overheard them earlier discussing the shorter wardrobe next to my Art Deco one, commenting how it might not fit the height of their bedroom. As I walked away from the beautiful wardrobe, having almost convinced myself that we could not afford that wardrobe, I spotted the male half of the couple tipping forward MY Art Deco wardrobe. As he was doing this, he said audibly enough that he wanted to have a look to see if it would be possible to hack off(!!!!!) the top of the wardrobe to make it fit.
Errr, hello??? The one they were originally looking at wasn’t going to fit, according to them, just how would a taller one be more suitable?
So I frogmarched myself to the counter and declared that I am going to purchase this Art Deco wardrobe and it will be mine and no one else’s. Slaveboy, easily as irresponsible and undisciplined as I am did NOTHING to convince me otherwise.
So there you go. My first post in a very long time and it is all about my middle-class-esque woes and challenges.
My friends reassure me that I have done the noble thing. I’ve preserved a thing of beauty, at the price of possibly having to live on baked beans on toast for the next week or so. I’m not sure Gandhi would have thought me so noble.