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Picture this: Clint Eastwood, scruffy beard, rolling bales of tumbleweed, facing off with his adversary. Each with gun on hip, ready to draw. This was John and me last night, as we faced off on the subject of the living room closet doors. Who knew closet doors could be such a hot topic?
We knew we had to do something about the closet doors in the living room, shown above in a surprisingly flattering light. They were grungy old sliding wood doors that didn't actually slide all that well, and were a surprisingly large presence in the room. My mom insisted that they made the whole apartment feel claustrophobic, and though I was pretty sure it was the entire city she found claustrophobic which probably had more to do with the nine million people living in such close proximity, she was convinced that the closet doors were the culprit. She wanted them out! (But the storage! The Sacred New York City storage! Was that to be forsaken?)
John wanted to tear them down and then move them into the other half of the room, and I was on the fence. I wasn't convinced there was a good enough reason to move them into the other room, but I wasn't ready to give up all of that storage without a fight. I mean look at all that space! Above the closet, inside the closets: a more organized person's dream come true. However for us, the loft area had become a place to throw stuff, which is neither organized or pretty. It had to go.
We also had these incredible salvaged church doors to factor into the equation. I had acquired these doors, (shown above, pretending to be our closet doors) through a series of long stories, and now I had to figure out what to do with them. They weigh a ton-- I mean A TON- and originally came from a church in Rome that was being renovated. I thought they would be perfect for our new closet doors, but once we lined them all up in the living room, they just seemed so huge and present. The opposite of what you want for closet doors, just ask my mom.
So we compromised. Sort of. We decided to paint the existing doors to see if white would make them more discrete. If that doesn't do it, I have agreed to a mediated session to discuss the closet doors in greater depth.
|What I looked like when John said he didn't think I should paint the closet doors. He claims to have been joking. I was clearly perplexed.|
|It's already 11:00pm at this point. I'm having a gas.|
|Finished product! An improvement? Only my mom will be able to tell us for sure.|