Morning in Coldwater

Coldwater sunrise against stucco through Venetian blinds = very gentle wake-up call.

We are moving Grant’s stuff out of the storage shed and into his house today, and then we’ll head over to Tucumcari tomorrow to see about getting him some furniture. He brought his bed with him in the U-Haul, but there wasn’t room for much of anything else. He really wants a formica-topped kitchen table and a set of metal chairs with canvas-textured vinyl upholstery in the ugliest floral print he can find. I have no idea why, other than the fact that this is exactly the sort of furniture you’d expect to find in a kitchen inhabited by a monitor-top refrigerator.

He has also informed me of his intentions for the living room. His primary goal involves throwing a couple of beanbags on the floor and constructing an entertainment center, computer desk, and end tables from Budweiser cases.

(I’m certainly glad I went to all that effort to restore the hardwood floor in the living room. I’d hate for classy furniture like that to be sitting on some dingy, worn-out carpet.)

On the up side, no one will ever be able to challenge his masculinity. Nothing says “house devoid of feminine influence” quite like furniture made out of beer crates….

— Sierra


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