4/4/2011 - more like an invitation. . .

Somebody I once knew said that all good gay guys go through the following learning curve for home decor:

1. College -- hand-me-downs from friends and family
2. First apartment -- IKEA
3. First job -- Crate and Barrel (and the like)
4. Getting ready to submit an application for the platinum gay card -- designer pieces (Eames chairs, Noguchi tables, etc.)

Were it not for Sam, I would probably still be in the IKEA phase, teetering on unstable dining room chairs and coloring in the corners of my particle-board coffee table with black Sharpies to hide the dents and nicks.  I was not given the gay decorating gene, and I always felt like nice furniture meant settling down.  Since I was 18, I've moved almost every year, once a year, from apartment to apartment.  I wasn't ready for nice furniture.

You'd think that since we just adopted Grr, a puppy in all the normal ways a puppy should be (read: destructive), the last thing we should be buying is nice furniture.  Yet here we are, with a new dining table purchased a few months ago, and a custom-made bed frame that was delivered today.

Though we had ordered the bed frame months ago, in a way, it seems appropriate that it should arrive now.  I've accepted that our loft is not perfect, adapted (more or less) to Grr's small but pervasive presence in our lives, and it seems that he has accepted ours in his (though at the moment, he is quite upset with both of us; a different story for a later time).  Moving within a year like I would have in my younger days is no longer possible; I understand that the three of us will live here together for quite a while, an undetermined amount of time.  This now feels more like an invitation, less like a sentence.