“Could you help me carry a few things in from the garage?”

“What is this?”
“Well. Well, I thought the Dining by Design table needed a rug. You know, to define the space a little better.”
“Uh huh. Where did you get these things?”
“Lowe’s. Jimenez told me about it.”
“How did you get them in your car?”
“Oh, there was the nicest man there; he loaded them up for me.”
“And they fit?”
“Well, not exactly. They had to go up over my headrest.”
“So, they were basically on your head for the ride home. And you couldn’t see out the back.”
“And why are we taking them into the living room?”
“I just can’t quite figure out what I’m going to paint on them and I can’t get a sense of the scale until they are all together.”
“You’re going to paint them.”
“But not in the living room? In the garage. Or how about the basement?”
But he knew from the start that I was going to paint them in the living room, just as the nice man at Lowe’s knew that I was not going to come back with a bigger car, but was going to figure out how to take these three four-by-eight pieces of laminate home right then.
I hate math, it’s such an inconvenience, but I measured a little then got out the yardstick. I was off, of course, and things had to be reconnoitered. I hate that. So I ignored the incorrectly measured part and went ahead and painted the border. I wanted to paint; I did not want to measure. When I finished the border, I stood back admiring my work, grateful for creative friends and low-priced home goods stores. Painting the floor in the living room was fine, bother Mr. Blandings and his concern.
Then I felt a nudge. Not of conscience or of sense. A nose nudge. About mid-thigh. It’s a common experience as it is Rosie’s usual way of letting me know I have forgotten her walk or her food or fetch. As I looked down into her amber eyes I realized that I had not quite accounted for keeping the dog off of the “rug.” She does not follow verbal instructions as well as the boys, which frankly is not all that well either.
So for a week Mr. Blandings and the boys have said nothing as half of the downstairs is blocked off with chairs and tables as they all work around me.
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33 thoughts on “Floored

  1. this is pure happiness; they'll remember these times with great fondness in the not-too-distant future

    wonderful rug news…just thrilled you are doing it all, cannot wait to see the fabulous results (they will be fabulous, there is no question about it)

    Go, Mrs. B., Go!

  2. What does a girl have to do to order one of these?
    I think this would work fabulously on my back porch.
    Black ground white pattern, Hurry it up please.

  3. Of course I thought you were going tell us the dog walked in the wet paint leaving paint paw prints all over your first floor … confirming Mr. Blandings' concern over setting up your workshop in the living room (which is exactly what I do — set up in the middle of the house)(stubborn!) When creativity takes over there is no stopping …
    Good luck with your project — it's a good sign when you are in deep, in the moment, as you clearly are.

  4. Send everyone to Grandma's for the week and do the important things! They just don't understand that when creativity strikes, you just HAVE to go with it. How hard is that!

  5. Cool rug…I follow the math part, very familiar…
    But such fun to see the reaction of your husband! It's familiar too!!!
    You do what you have to do!
    And fabulous!


  6. As my husband says in moments of truth from chaos: from direction find direction out. Paint your dining room floor! BTW, I have had so many of those over the headrest moments involving construction materials, objects and trees. A girl has to do what a girl has to do.

  7. Isn't it nice when they love you enough to just work around your project. Brett's a saint in that respect. The schnauzers not so much.

  8. "I hate math….I wanted to paint;I did not want to measure"…this is the story of my life! Only a true artist says these things!

  9. My Mother was also a "free thinker" when it came to her house. One day she got up off the couch and with a hammer pounded off most of the drop ceiling between the living room and dining room. My Father never knew what to expect when he came home at night. It was years before I realized my Mother's name wasn't "Jesus Christ Janet".

    Keep up the good work. Ann

  10. Made me laugh! You go, girl! I, too, am grateful for a husband who welcomes my creative bursts that often require taking over whole rooms for days and days at a time…

  11. And have I told you lately how much I love your blog?

    and right behind you on the inconvenient math vs. painting thing, although you seem to have conquered the divide very well.

  12. Oh, so this is the laboratory for Dining by Design…the garages of designers everywhere!!!

    I like the way you think!!


  13. Wowee, Patricia!I can just see you dripping in Robert Lee Morris jewelry, black pants, crisp white shirt and blonde hair, freshly coiffed, painting!!!!(That sounds like a very Myrna Loy moment too.lol)
    Wish, Jet Blue flew into KC, so I could see your tablescape( I have loads of free flights on JB)…..Rosie, was poking her nose at you, saying, " go Mom,go" .xo. linda,ny

  14. This post totally hit home with me! How many times have I turned my dining room or living room into a staging area for a particular project…I am forwarding this post to my family….oh wait maybe it is right now!

  15. Commenting belatedly:
    My heart skipped a beat at the thought of a painting
    project in such close proximity to your Le Lac curtains.
    My guest bedroom has often been turned into a makeshift painting studio, where the curtains in question are Rose Cumming's Delphinium, so I guess that makes us partners in crime.

  16. Love the design and the Martha-esque DIY courage. Would love to know the back-end how-to: keep the pieces in place?

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