Monica Bielanko
That's What She Said
Just A Junk Drawer Dream
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In Which I Am Sure To Pull My Blonde Hair Out By Its Very Black Roots

I took the last week off work so Serge and I could spend time together. We've been meaning to redesign, rather, we've been meaning to actually design our bedroom in the first place. I mean, we've lived here for a year now. It's time. Ya think?

I'm not sure Serge knows how adorable I found it to hear him use words like comforter, sham, valance and duvet (which, to the shame of his French father, he pronounced doo-vette) in his very earnest search for just the right bedding.

The best new addition to our home in recent memory? A KING size bed. Did you hear me? KING! Big enough to fit me, Serge and Max even if he wants to lay sideways. Last night I stuck out a foot to find my husband and lo and behold, my leg found nothing! NOTHING! I lost him! I lost my husband in our giant bed!

The first months of our marriage, before we moved to Brooklyn, Serge and I shared the spare room at Mom's house. That spare room contains one twin bed that my big brother used when he was nine. We shared that tiny GOTdamn bed for months, all sweaty, twisted limbs and dog tail in mouths and QUIT BREATHING ON ME! Brooklyn wasn't much better either. En route to NYC we stopped at a storage shed in Philly at which time Serge proudly procured the full-sized bed he used while in college. And that bed has been where "the magic happens" for the past four years.

Until now!

The luxury, my God, the luxury. Once the deliverymen set up the bed and left we promptly threw up. At the price tag. At the fact that we just bought a bed that cost three times as much as my very first car. Once recovered we immediately embarked on just the right wrapping for our purchase. Would it be a "doo-vette" or a regular patterned bedspread you can buy in plastic at Target for $69.99? Maybe a nice quilt? Serge eventually talked me into a sweet blue and white patterned duvet over a down comforter.

We decided on kind of a French provincial bedding, rug, curtain thing... All white, blue and splashes of beige... billowy white curtains and an old-fashioned, braided rug mixed with modern black dresser and headboard.

At one point while in Wal-Mart I peeked down an aisle and giggled as I watched my rocker hubby trying a baby blue candle on various holders; brass, glass, silver etc... He'd fit the candle in, stretch his arm out to look at it from afar, slightly shake is head then pick out a different candle base.

Now that most of the tough work is done I decided to start a project in which we pick out 11 or 12 of our favorite photos of mine that have blue, white and cream in them, frame them in black and hang them on the bedroom wall. But now that we survived the designing/decorating part, I can't, for the life of me, figure out how we'll hang these photos properly without filing for divorce. What order? How far apart? How exactly do we go about measuring? We're sure to fuck up the whole mess. Had you witnessed the battle that occurred just hanging one of his father's paintings and the resulting damage on the poor wall that never did nothing bad to nobody - well, you wouldn't hold out much hope for us either.