Chapter Twenty One; The Great Stripping Adventure

If you ever want to know what is going on with me and my life, just check out the state of my home decor.

I fully admit I am a closet Martha Stuart wannabee (minus the insider trading scandal). My idea of a good time is wandering through Pier One leisurely sniffing scented candles while remarking, “Oh, look at this picture frame,” or “Now this would be cute in my bathroom.” I like to live in a state of constant decorating motion. That is who I am. That is me.

The last year, yeah, I got a little fuzzy on things that make me me. Divorce can do that.

In fact, I don’t think I’ve stepped one heeled shoe in Pier One in over a year. And come to think of it, I don’t even own a scented candle at the moment.

But this fall, as my life transformed on several levels it only seemed appropriate that the house make some transitions as well. Forget the candles and the picture frames; I got out the sledge hammer. (And the credit card!)

I ripped out some built in cabinets, bought all new living room furniture, a cool high def flat screen TV, and completely switched the functions of a couple of rooms. The result was amazing. And I knew, I’d found myself again.

A few months later, Audra strikes again when I decide to tackle my dining room. I start by wrestling down the dreadful oversized floral drapes in my dining room, all the while questioning the sanity of the former owner. Who would actually choose these on purpose? Was she held a gun point by the material mafia? It’s a mystery.

Annie joins me in my redecorating madness the next day for what will forever be known as “The Great Stripping Adventure.” (Of the wallpaper variety, people. I haven’t gone THAT nuts through this divorce process.) I secure a steamer from a friend and Annie and I eyeball is suspiciously. It looks a little foreboding and I secretly pray that I do not end up describing this project at a later date using words like nightmare, debacle, or worse yet: explosion.

We find a seam in the paper and apply the magical contraption to it. I explain to Annie (who has never stripped wallpaper in her entire pampered life) that this is either going to be super easy and take a couple hours if the paper comes off well, or . . . I am going to spend the next month scraping off quarter sized bits of paper and convulsing in a fetal position on the floor.

The moment of truth has arrived.

I pry. I pull.

I scream!

For joy!

The wallpaper comes off in ONE gigantic sheet! I have a wallpaper orgasm and Annie, home improvement novice that she is, doesn’t really understand this need for true celebration but she joins in my ecstasy and we whoop away!

One hour later, the dining room is stripped naked and in full monty form.

And although I do rejoice the ease in which this was accomplished, I am kicking myself for living with that repulsive decor for three years when in an hour, it was gone.

Sometimes, we spend so much timing thinking about things that we psych ourselves out and convince ourselves that the process to reach a goal will just be too hard, and we make up excuses, or even run away.

But the truth is you just don’t know how things will ever play out. No one has a crystal ball and life is always and only lived one hour at a time, and uncovered one layer at a time.

So the next time you look at something that you think might be too difficult to even attempt, just forget fear and take a chance on debacles, nightmares, or even explosions. Who knows? It might not be as painful as you think and you may just end up jumping for joy in your dining room.