Yesterday morning, up I jolly well woke from a pleasant dream of one of my workmates burying bodies in my garden (and me saying 'you'll have to bury them deeper, I've got dogs, they dig', which was realistic if not very helpful. I could have got a shovel and helped dig) to thoughts of furniture.
My living room and dining room are, let's face it and not beat around the bush, just one big space. My house is, basically, a corridor. It's virtually impossible to put furniture anywhere without it being in the way of the fireplace, a door, the dog, other furniture, etc. So we've been living with two sofas facing one another and the TV on one wall, the fireplace opposite. Imagine, if you will, something like a doctor's waiting room, only with a proper TV and a fire that's sometimes lit. Which has meant that only two people at any one time could actually watch the TV (those two at the furthest end of the sofas from the TV). Anyone else was sitting sideways on and had to sort of watch over their shoulders. Add the fact that there was nearly always a dog sitting on one or more sofa cushions, and you have a recipe for disaster, or, at the very least, sore necks.
|This is more or less all you can see.|
|Much better than the thin black line I'd been watching.|
So, is it an age thing? Rearranging the furniture? Like when you're pregnant and start nesting? Or was I just properly sick and tired of only seeing half of Peter Capaldi? Anyway. We now have one three seater sofa, one four seater and one two seater, all in the same room and, by some fluke, they are all green!
If anyone knows how I can stop the five cats we now possess from occupying every single cushion, I'd be grateful. By the time the cats and dogs are all sitting down, there's only two seats left...
And I have to sit on the floor.