Nine months have passed since my husband’s death, so a couple of weeks ago, I made the inevitable announcement:
“It’s time to put my personal stamp upon the house.”
“No offense to your dad,” I assured my daughter, “but it’s time to change the space. I feel like he’s coming around the corner every minute. It feels a little weird.”
Diplomatic to the core, she worked hard to mask the terror in her eyes. She didn’t flinch or reflect on my decorating disasters of the past.
She simply smiled and caught her breath: “I think you should call a professional,” she said.
She was not alone. My friends offered the same advice. I was soon connected with a Feng Shui consultant in case my husband’s illness had tainted the energy in the house, and a real estate marketer, who would keep me from making the place completely un-sellable in the future.
“Not to worry,” I told my daughter. “I’ve got all kinds of experts helping me out.”
It was truer than I knew. On the first walk-through, the real estate marketer suggested calling a couple of design consultants, whose forte was offering style on a budget.
Since then, my head has spun with all the helpful advice.
“Don’t paint a thing,” said the marketer. “Keep everything neutral.”
Painting the back wall of the office darker might be nice, suggested the Feng Shui consultant, who favored warming up the “travel and helpful people” corner of the house, so I could move on.
“Definitely paint the office but in a light taupe that will show off the bookshelves,” offered the designers.
They also wanted the back of the living room couch to face the front door so the room would be cozier.
“Absolutely not!” said the Feng Shui lady, who wanted a more welcoming look.
The marketer was neutral on the position of the couch, but thought the hallway should have a runner. The designers disagreed.
Family pictures were an issue for everyone – the marketer urging me to remove them, the Feng Shui lady urging me to move them off the fireplace so the relationships “didn’t burn up,” and the designers shooting down my idea of parking everything on a portable photo screen.
The screen seemed like the perfect compromise, only they thought it would clash with the fabric panels they’d not yet recommended but – come to think of it – were absolutely essential.
After a few days of this, it occurred to me that two words had been left gasping by the side of the decorating road: “personal stamp.”
In a personal stamping fury, I yanked the TV out of the living room, ordered a small red one that looks like an apple for the kitchen counter, and hung the microwave over the stove.
I am proud to say that the apple – complete with stem and leaves – has won everyone’s heart.
“Fantastic!” said the designers.
“Perfect for the creativity area!” said the Feng Shui lady.
As for the ghost of my TV-loving husband, the living room will have much less appeal. And once I’ve mastered the apple’s simple two-step remote, I suspect he’ll slip out.
“I knew she could do it,” he’ll say.
Copyright 2010 Pat Snyder
