Master of the House

Decked out for spring--the fall/winter bedding was finally put away! Those doors, fyi, lead to the master bathroom. And that's another post for another day.

The sitting area.

Another view. That door leads to the closet. I was going to post a pic of the closet too, but I lost my nerve. Half of it is quite organized. The other (guy) half? Not so much.

This post works best if you sing “Master of the House” from Les Misérables in your head as you read. Trust me. You may recall that I promised I’d show each room at chez Hofmann as we finished it, and after what seems like forever, I present to you . . . The master bedroom. You know what the problem is with master bedrooms? You have to share them. And do you know who I have to share with? A BOY!!! Don’t get me wrong. Chris is a pretty good roommate. He . . . well, he . . . . Hmmm. He leaves his socks in the floor, his robe on the floor, his dishes on the nightstand, his dirty handkerchiefs on the bed, his 451 trillion magazines on the floor . . . Still, I like him. A lot. He can stay. Now for the decorating rundown: It took me FOREVER to paint this room. There are twelve—twelve!—separate walls (some are big, some are small). That’s twelve corners. Let me tell you, that’s a lot of masking and an almost hopeless amount of painting. Mums (when she was here visiting Charlotte) helped me finish it off on the third day I tackled it, and it was such a relief to finally have this room completely painted. As you can see, I chose to paint it a neutral beige-ish taupe. Boring? Sure, but this is such a large room that any bold color would have been completely overwhelming. I tried to introduce a wee bit of boldness with the curtains, but this room is still too far on the safe side as far as decorating goes. I need something to make this room really pop, but I haven’t found it quite yet. The sitting area, which I love, was a change we made to the original floor plan—except we’re a bit short on furniture to fill it. Originally, the bookcase went in the office. I eventually decided that I hated the look of it in there, so Chris and I had the joy of hauling the world’s heaviest bookcase up the stairs. I like it in the sitting area, but I want to find some dramatic, non-gaudy chaise-type thing for this area as well, perhaps demoting the brown chair from Target to another room. The tray ceiling was another last-minute customization. I had secretly wanted the tray ceiling throughout the customizing and house-buying process, but I never said a word because I wanted to be sensible. As we were finalizing everything with the house, the sales guy tried to verify that we wanted no tray ceiling. “Correct,” Chris said. “No tray ceiling.” He paused, then looked at me. “Wait, do you want a tray ceiling?” I fidgeted. “Maybe.” “Well, why didn’t you say so?” “It’s expensive!” “We’re putting in all the crap I want. You’re getting at least one nonpractical thing that you want.” Chris turned back to the sales guy. “Tray ceiling. Put it in.” And so I got my tray ceiling. Whether Chris was being sweet and generous or trying to assuage his guilt for all his guy stuff (don’t even get me started on the wiring in this place), I’m not sure. But I think he wanted the nifty ceiling too. (We had nixed the outdoor staircase from the basement to the backyard, which freed up some moolah for pretty, pointless things.) And next on our tour, we have . . . the closet! (Okay, all you can see is the doorway. It's a big room with lots of clothes. Satisfied?) I cannot begin to tell you the degree to which we had previously suffered from lack of closet space. Every change of season, when we’d switch out the summer or winter clothes, World War III commenced. “Really, Chris? REALLY? You haven’t worn this sweater in 5 years, it’s too big for you, and it’s taking up all this space because it’s so frickin’ bulky.” “But it was a gift!” “So you’re going to keep it out of guilt? Why not give it away so someone else can enjoy it?” This debate would then be followed by: “Seriously, Ashley, how many shoes do you need?” “Lots.” “You’re taking up the entire foyer closet with your shoes.” “So? You’re taking up the whole master bedroom closet with your SWEATERS THAT YOU NEVER WEAR” And so the domestic drama went. Now, however, we have a big closet. A closet so large that I have my side and Chris has his. And there’s enough room for. . . . everything. So much room that I can declare, “Ooooh! DSW! Let’s stop there!” To which Chris can only respond, “Ah, crap. I can no longer use the ‘we-don’t-have-enough-space’ excuse to get you to stop buying shoes.’” So that pretty much wraps up our tour. These photos, of course, show the room only in its most perfect condition. Usually Charlotte’s toys are sprinkled around on the floor, and then there are Chris’s dishes, dirty socks, magazines . . . . .