Sunday, April 22, 2007

Quite the high, boy

Is that all there is? No, Miss Lee; it's not a lowboy. It's the low part of Amanda's dear, old cherry highboy, and it was the first piece of furniture to move into its new home on Sunday.

It wasn't a matter of age before beauty; it was age and beauty perfectly conjoined, in the place of pride designed to highlight every dovetail, every plane and every sweet curve.

The high part, complete with its wildly turned finials, came in just a few minutes later -- but so did chair, table, chair, table, box, box, box, box, desk, chair, table, chair, table, desk, chest, footstool, box, box, box, chest. Which tend to clutter up the picture.

Then, when the truck was empty, Robert rode over with the movers to the storage locker, overpriced and undersized, and it poured forth three sofas, two big chairs for the den, three headboards, four bedside tables and, as Hollywood says, much, much more (despite our much, much less of a house).

The day even gave us a chance to try out the removable section of loft railing (discussed with Ref and Shawn, installed by Arnold and perfected by Deco and Dave), which eliminates the need to saw things into pieces to accommodate the tight 180 in the staircase. It was as astonishingly useful as I ever could have hoped.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

the burning question: did you sleep there yet? boil water? deliver babies? i am waiting, waiting. holy mackerel this is exciting! how long has it been start to now?

John said...

we can't sleep there until we get a certificate of occupancy -- which means electricians and plumbers have to be done (and HARC has to inspect, though we can likely post a sizable bond to guarantee that we'll comply eventually with whatever the city requires).

unfortunately neither electrician nor plumber showed up today (nor pool man).

but we did give birth to curtain rods for three sets of draperies, several closet organizers, four vents allowing the office to draw air from the louver-front closets . . . and heaven knows what else.

so i shout an exhausted hoopsa.