The Flea Market

I haven't written about the place until now, well, because it was just too damn depressing. Now that it is August 4th and I have passed the halfway point I am feeling better about it. I am almost outta here...27 more days to be precise. Not that I am counting or anything.

I should preface this to say, we rented a flat just down the road from here in the picturesque district of Vasastan. However, it would not be available until September 1st. We had to find a temporary apartment for those two months. We used an online service and rented the Flea Market, sight unseen. I reasoned:

a. it was only two months
b. I had looked at several places and didn't see anything that wasn't decent
c. It was large, fairly expensive and in Vasastan

I should also preface this by telling you that I really don't like stuff. I have some material objects that I really like but they are few in number. Please note, I don't say this to point out some great moral positioning. Less stuff is just easier. The couple of things I do love -- my Dyson vacuum, my Mac, my Kitchen Aide fridge with (sob) icemaker and clothes and shoes. Other than that and as far as decorating goes, I am in the Georgia O'Keefe realm. Chair, table, lamp and I am good. We are talking real minimalist use of things like curtains, knick knacks, and pictures.

So, really, if the fates wanted to play a cruel joke on me and invent an interior that is so anti-everything I could ever want in a place this would be it. Antiques-check. Really, really bad paintings by the truckload with even worse ugly frames, check. Bad, bad, bad antique like tables and mirrors--oh, yeah, we've got 'em. Throw rugs everywhere, yes siree. We promptly rolled up all the rugs and hid them under beds about five seconds after the owner left. Ugly ornate lamps and clocks. Check and check.

Can I also mention that clutter makes me crazy? This place gives clutter a new name. And because they were only at their summer home for two months, they only packed up half of their clutter. Drawers and drawers full of crap. Bags full of old newspapers--for what purpose, I have no idea.Trick closets that would make Bugs Bunny proud. Book shelves over flowing with pretentious books that I am sure she's probably never read, old school notebooks and ledgers. She has old notebooks from college. On display in bookshelves. She's like 40, I've seen her pictures.

Yep, and to add insult to injury she's some sort of a, dare I say, liberal. All the obligatory titles are here. The Story of Bob Dylan, The Works Of Marx, Nietzsche, Is Hetrosexuality Normal. The full set of classic music. Brochures for the local theaters. The whole gamut of liberal merit badges on display for anyone who cares enough to be impressed by them.

Even weirder, is, though four people live here, every room is overrun with her stuff. As far as I can tell, the husband has one closet that he keeps very neat. The kids have their own wardrobes and a dresser. The rest is hers. Every drawer, every bookshelf, every nook, every cranny. Wow! And I thought I was self involved.

I am just thankful, in 27 days, she can have it all back. In the meantime, I need to remember where I put all those throw rugs and where they go.