This weekend I became suddenly, intensely obsessed with throw pillows. We had our house painted last month, and it was a big event because we have never spent thousands of dollars on house improvements the way you are meant to if you are a house-owning adult. It felt incredibly grown-up, and I do love the colours. But I also think it spurred this weekend's alarming focus on throw pillows.
Here is the thing: I went to IKEA twice in one weekend. IKEA, on the weekend, twice. For throw-pillow issues (size, colour, texture ... I was getting everything wrong and I was determined to fix my mistakes).
For some people a weekend of throw pillows not a crime (though daily IKEA visits are wrong for everyone). These are aesthetically-minded people who do beautiful projects in their houses, who decorate and build as a form of art. They are creative people and this is the way they express their vision and how they play. But that's not how I'm creative, I wasn't playing, and that was the problem.
I was stressing about the fact that we have very terrible furniture in our living room that we won't replace for a while because we blew this year's house-related cash on getting the house painted. I needed a quick fix, a colour hit to distract the eye from, well, cat-and-kids-mangled couch, chair, and rug (okay, and plants—the cats chew our plants like salad). I did okay—red and orange and fuchsia can't help but make you feel cheery—but I was uncomfortably aware of how I had needed to attend to the living room in order to be a proper grown-up.
On my second trip to IKEA I carted the kids with me, and by the end I was having fun ... because we got to the candle area with all its cheap, artificial-smelling $2 bits of wax in glass. We ran around sniffing them all and the kids loved each scent so desperately that we had to bring four candles home. We drove back in the car with Ben Harper's Fight for Your Mind blasting and the kids making fun of me for singing "Another Lonely Day" with earnest passion. (I am really good at this song but they aren't aware of it yet.)
Today I am burning Berry Blast (so gross) beside me as I type and I may try to resuscitate poor plant because it looks so pitiful and is calling out to me to stop its torture. It may not make it, let's be serious, but later I will listen to another song I love and give myself an hour to work away at a creative writing class that is sooooo good and the throw pillows will be there but not quite so demanding. When evening comes I will think about the lemongrass and kaffir lime leaves I have in the fridge and what awesome creation can spring from them. Play.