I wish that the pictures could capture how pretty my yard smells when the lilac blooms. (The azalea next to it, not pictured, also). It needs a trim but I tended to that after the blooms slowed. (Update since this photo was taken: the azalea is still blooming, the lilacs not so much.)
As I’ve been making all these changes (and they’re not being related to you in order, necessarily), the furniture in my living room has started to bother me more and more.
When I moved into my apartment, I was in the process of filing for divorce, and in need of a place to live and new furnishings in a hurry (mostly because while my parents were very generous about being willing to let me stay with them until I got settled, the 2-hours-each-way commute from their place to my office just wasn’t going to be feasible long term).
For starters, the medicine cabinet and the baseboard heat both had issues similar to the one in the kitchen: wall paint had been applied to both of these metal elements. The main difference was that in this case, it’s a steamy environment to boot, so I’d already had to make touchups, almost as soon as I moved in. Though on the plus side, I was considerably less likely to be injesting it in this case.
Sure, there were a lot of things I wanted to do just to make the place look better, but to be fair, not everything I decided to do was based on aesthetics.
I hadn’t really thought about updating my kitchen at all. Again, I don’t own the place. So none of the things I’d love to see get updated in there: the flooring, the major appliances, the cabinets, the countertops — wait, that’s almost everything — was something I was going to undertake to update.
That said, I needed to set some new paint up in there, and not even for decorative reasons.
Having repaired the severest signs of my apartment’s slow slide to ruin, and painted one wall in that room and repaired damage in multiple others, it was time to paint over the signs of my repair work.