Our family watched Night at the Museum last night. I’m a history nerd and am envious of Ben Stiller’s character. The night guard has the opportunity to interact with Teddy Roosevelt, Sacagawea, and Attila the Hun. All questions of the past can be answered. I want furniture to speak to me and answer my questions.
I recently acquired a bench with a vinyl cow print top with a base finished with a faux wood paint technique. As I removed the chipped painted, I imagined the bench telling me its story of torture; a previous owner didn’t love the bench enough to remove the tan base paint and stain the bench. Even the bench knew that faux wood paint over wood furniture is wrong. Just plain wrong. The bench would then thank me for allowing the wood to breathe again.
No one wants to hear from my couch. My couch would complain about the crumbs under the cushions that only get vacuumed once a year (I refuse to share photos). There may also be rumblings about abuse from children using the cushions as a springboard onto the ottoman. Or using the back of the couch as a horse because I won’t (can’t) buy them a real one. Oh no, what crazy stories would my ottoman share about me?
Purchasing furniture at estate sales or Goodwill would be so much more interesting if the furniture could speak. “Look at me! I am a quality piece built in 1962. The manufacturer branded my underside. I have spent my entire life in a corner and I am ready to take the spotlight. I would look like a million bucks with a fresh coat of paint.”
Since I do not possess the golden tablet to bring life to my furniture at night, I am forced to create my own backstories. Don’t be surprised if you find me in the garage talking to furniture hoping it will talk back.