Brian groaned when he realized the purpose of our post-lunch errand. Nevertheless, he was relieved to find out that my haul would fit into a grocery bag. In other words, it wasn’t another chair.

I love my recent acquisitions, two paintings I found on FreeCycle. The first is a sunset – or a sunrise? – that I see as I turn around to face the hallway at the top of the stairs.

The second is a place that feels familiar, though I’ve never been there.

If you ask me what I’ve been up to, this is what I’ll tell you. I hung up two paintings the same day I got them. If there’s time and you seem interested, we could talk about how something as simple as a free painting can lift a person’s spirits or how these random paintings about which I felt lukewarm belong here. For the person who gave them away, these paintings were clutter or reminiscent of a time best forgotten or just ugly. Or maybe it was painful to give away her mother’s art that was collected over the span of a childhood? But she’s moving to Denver. Starting over after a messy divorce. No room. Downsize, like it or not. Or maybe she read Marie Kondo’s book and said, “These colors don’t spark joy! Get them out!”

Maybe.

Maybe.

Maybe.

Or I might tell you about how I’ve been replacing the boards on my deck and how being done with hauling 16-footers on top of my car (after hours of picking through them at the warehouse, ugh!) is a cause for celebration, even though there’s still more to do.

Or – being of limited skills in the way of needle arts – how I cannot believe that I managed to recover four patio chairs using my consumer-end sewing machine. It was tricky but not as hard as sewing a patch on some old jeans.

It’s an out-of-body experience to look at a finished product (mostly finished, I might add some buttons but I’m counting it as not to despair). It’s the same feeling I get whenever I see the door at the top of the stairs. It was caked with layers of brittle paint and it was a huge job to repaint it. The ceiling in the dining room. The office I’m sitting in right now used to be Pepto Bismol pink. These are good things to remember when you’re in the middle of a never-ending project like when there are still boards to cut, clamp and screw down to the framing of the deck. With every swing of the hammer, I wonder “Am I about to ruin my house?”

“I’m not bored but I might be boring.”

That’s what I told my mother when we were catching up this morning. She called just as she was sitting down with a fresh cup of coffee and just as I was about to do the same.

Boring is no badge of honor anymore than eschewing television makes you better than me. I would welcome adventure. But it’s still cool to take pleasure in second-hand art and to think, “Perfect! I love it.” And then to put away the drill that has a place because you’ve already done the boring task of organizing your tools, which didn’t bore you at all.

I did document the patio chair project and keep meaning to post some tips, if not for the random person who might find it useful (Spoiler alert: pockets, as in shams, instead of zippers), then for me. Because it’s already starting to feel like someone else must have done it and I’m not sure I could do it again.