Slight Modifications

Since moving in we've made a few slight modifications to the old Boo House. Allow me to show you:

click to see it nice and big

This is the Gravity Room.¹ I put up a dark blue butcher-paper racing stripe to give the walls some color, and then I made some orange denim curtains to really snazz up the place. Dave kindly provided the lamps, the rug, the futon, and an endless assortment of books. Joel brought the six-foot-wide bean bag that's back in the corner. He also brought his projector, which you can see hooked up to a DVD player and some nintendos in front of the boarded-up fire place. It shines on an actual projector screen (like from a classroom) rather than an old sheet; we bolted it into the wall next to where this shot was taken. There's also a surround-sound system hiding out in various nooks. Joel also provided the nice painting above the mantel, which actually matches the room quite well, even though we didn't plan it that way.

I acquired that gorgeous green Barcalounger at a Salvation Army in Lancaster, OH. I went in there and looked around, the way you do when you're sizing up a thrift store, and in about a minute I had figured out that the only thing worth a dime in the whole place was this beautiful green chair. It was clean and comfortable and was without tears or stain or even many signs of wear, and it was just sitting there alone against the usual jumble of indecipherable furniture parts and blue-jean concoctions.

And it was the only thing in the whole store without a price tag.

I went up to the front to ask about it, just knowing that it would be like $80 since it was clearly such a find. The lady at the front didn't even know what I was talking about. "The what?" she asked.

"The green chair back there in the furniture. I was wondering how much it is."

"I'll have to go take a look, honey. Just a sec."

She seemed stunned to see it there when we reached the back of the store, like it wasn't supposed to be part of the inventory, like it was the office chair and some worker had thrown it out on the floor as a joke. I cringed for the moment she would name it out of my price range, out of my future (I had an Explorer full of Target dorm-room furniture outside and a wallet that was feeling the strain despite the considerable back-to-school discounts.)

"Twenty bucks," she said.

Sold.





¹ I once had this dream where me and a bunch of friends (I think it was the gang from Scooby-Doo) were being given a tour of a brand new, as-yet-unopened skyscraper. The guide was taking us from room to room showing us all the incredible things that had been built into the building. Finally we reached the top of the tower and stood outside the central, pinnacle room, and the guide explained to us that all we had seen was nothing compared to what we would now see: the Gravity Room. The whole building had been built for this room to exist. It was new and incredible, and we were to be given the honor of seeing it in person before the whole world. I was dying to see what the Gravity Room held—an antigravity device? furniture on the ceiling? controls for the gravity of the whole city? a huge meteorite glowing with energy being fed into some fantastic machine? This was it, the moment I had waited for, the unveiling of the Gravity Room. Like, wow, Scoob. The guide went to the doors, reached for the handle,

And I woke up. I've spent my entire life trying to figure out what it is. I usually name a room in my house the Gravity Room in hopes that it'll inspire me to finish the dream, but who knows if I'll ever know?