My new life has arrived and a poem of some relevance...

Yesterday Amy and I made our way into the hallowed streets of Cambridge to pick up the wardrobe of my dreams. I can honestly tell you that there is no one better to take along when there is IKEA dismantling to be done. She has her own set of allen wrenches and she knows how to use them.

Like an elite troop of Navy Seals, we went into the sellers third floor apartment and quickly assessed the best method for dismantling the wardrobe. Within twenty minutes we had taken it apart and were carrying to my car.  The wardrobe never knew what hit it.

We completed our mission making about seven trips to my car in the rain and thunder. We were calm and confident. Once home we enlisted the help of David and lugged it up the stairs and reassembled it.

I was so excited to start my new life at a person with a proper closet that I could barely sleep last night. I kept imagining my clothes hanging neatly in the wardrobe. I could see my small desk tucked into my attic nook. These may be the dreams of a suburban middle class housewife, but they are all I've got.

This morning I woke up, downed some coffee and got to work.

This is what my closet/attic nook looked like before. The shame. The horror.

Do not ask me how many of these things I actually wear. Fashion can be fickle.

Emptying the closet was awesome! Light poured in through the window, welcoming me into my new space.

This is my new office nook.

Lovely isn't it? It will be so wonderful to have a place to hide from the children take care of bills and paperwork.

Meanwhile, I did a searching and fearless fashion inventory of all of my clothes and made tough choices. Only the things which I really love and don't make my butt look fat got to go into my new fancy wardrobe.

 It will stay tidy- I just know it!

You know what's interesting about IKEA furniture? The least substantial part of the piece is often the most critical to its stability. When Amy and I were putting the wardrobe together we toyed with the idea of not putting the back on. The back is made of glorified cardboard and tacked into place with tin brads. It seemed completely insignificant right up until the moment when we put the doors on the wardrobe and watched it tilt to the right. The wardrobe was extremely wobbly. This led me to make the following observation.

"The back of this wardrobe is like a William Carlos Williams poem."

So much depends 

Upon

The flimsy

Cardboard 

Back

of the rain soaked 

wardrobe.

Now that I have spent Mother's Day cleaning and rearranging I need to shout out to the great moms in my life. My mom Lorette taught me everything I know about whipping a room into shape in record time. My stepmother Andrea is always happy to brainstorm decorating ideas with me and my mother-in-law Ellen brought my wonderful husband into the world. I wouldn't be half the person I am today without this great ladies! Happy Mother's Day!