Just when you think you're done...

My parents have this disease (one shared by zillions of people, judging by the crowds at Home Depot and the popularity of HGTV) wherein they cannot leave any part of their house alone, but must always be improving/ decorating/ remodelling/ otherwise altering it so that it moves closer and closer to their idea of absolutely perfect. They just finished a months long principal (no longer master, because that's sexist) bathroom renovation (made months long by the fact that they refuse to hire a contractor, and so my dad renovated it, from guts to grout, on weekends), and now they're on to doing my sister's bathroom & the downstairs powder room. And my dad's building them a bed. And they're painting the kitchen cabinets. And they're installing a new central vac. And they're going to totally re-landscape the front of the house. And on and on. I mean, it's worth it (the new bathroom is GORGEOUS, and they saved probably $20, 000 by doing it themselves), but don't you get tired?

And yet (and yet), I'm finding that I've got the same disease. I guess we really do all turn into our parents as we get older. Our apartment is tiny, and not even ours, but I'm still constantly doing something to it. First it was buying furniture (as we had none), then it was curtains, then it was hanging up pictures, then it was making art for the walls (which I'm still not quite done, as my triptych is one painting short), then it was creating a pantry. This weekend was furniture buying, assembly, and rearranging.

It's my own fault, really. I'm a book junkie, I work for a publishing house, and every year or so I need to stock up on bookshelves. First it was one, then two, then three, then four. Then back down to three, because one is being used as a pantry in the kitchen. As of today, we're up to six. One bedroom, two people, six bookshelves. A little out of proportion, perhaps? However, I do need somewhere to put my books, and when I go back to school, I'm going to have even more books, not to mention the spring work book sale (more 25 cent paperbacks!). And we do have room for the new shelves. There's a cute little nook at the end of the dining room (which is luckily quite large) that's framed by a bulkhead that was just crying out for bookshelves. I've always wanted a library, and it looks like I've got one, a.k.a. our entire apartment.

So, the dining room cum library was looking mighty fine once I got our Flarke shelves assembled--gotta love IKEA-- (and now that the shelves aren't so crammed, I got to do some artistic arranging of books and assorted decorative items, and it looks pretty), so I started thinking that maybe the living room needed a little work. And off we went rearranging furniture. Damn you Mom & Dad for passing on your "can't leave the house alone" genes! Ah, well. Better accept it now, because it's only going to get worse once we buy a house and can actually paint and knock down walls and stuff. The apartment is to my liking now (except for our living room lamps, which need to go. They're too squatty), but I still need rugs, and to finish my art projects, and to paint the dresser, and etc. and etc. Man, it's true! Just when you think you're done...