The Bar

When you have an official reason as to why your child doesn’t like to go places, you begin to reevaluate your entire life.  And then decide it’s just plain easier to spend your down-time at home.  I decided if we were going to be home, I wanted to make our living spaces as “far away” looking as possible.  As if we were on vacation, but still at home.  Starting with our bedroom.  It was time to make it feel like a sanctuary, so when we crossed the threshold we could feel like we entered a hotel, far away from the ups and downs of living with an unpredictable child.

On our first real trip to actually purchase and not just window shop,  I found the perfect bedroom set.  I was in bliss just looking at that four-poster beauty. It was even called “The Hemingway Collection” not only one of my favorite authors, but it looked like it belonged in a hotel.  Perfect. Dan needed to get up here.  But he was downstairs tirelessly walking Ryan in the stroller so he would stay content.  I went to find him to trade.  He had a smirk on his face.  

“What?” I said.

“You have to take a look at this.” He eyes lit up.

“No, I’ve found our bed, this is it, you have to go see it.” I argued.

“It’s not a bed.  It’s a bar.” He was nodding his head and smiling like an idiot.

“A bar. I don’t want to sleep on a bar.” I said dryly.

“Just go over there and look.  It would be awesome in the living room.” He smiled again.  I know he has always wanted an entertaining area, but this was not my priority.   A bar in our living room conjured up all kinds of images in my mind.  What I saw was made of tacky bamboo and had Gilligan standing behind it with his goofy white hat shaking coconuts together.  It just didn’t go with my formal living room look.  I could see he wasn’t budging, especially when he said:

“I’m not looking at that bed until you see this.”

I sighed in defeat and heard Ryan whine from the stroller so I knew I had to work fast.

“Fine.” I turned around and began walking in the direction he pointed.  Searching for the tropical section, I stumbled upon a piece of furniture that looked like it belonged in a library or exclusive golf club.  It was tall,solid, rounded and dark and, well, beautiful.  Yes, I know I am describing a bar, but it was not your typical bar.   It was a focal point…  Crap. He’s right, but we can’t afford it.  I walked around the back to see the lovely marble counter and wine rack and cabinets and built-in outlets and I wanted to cry.  Damn it! Who would think a bar could evoke this kind of emotion out of me? I mean I have patronized a few in my day, but suddenly I saw it…Our house, the hangout…standing behind it taking orders….passing out coasters. Ughh!

Well, we decided to stay home whenever possible, what would be more perfect than a focal point that happens to hold alcohol and provide seating?  I stared at the front of the price tag until I had the courage to turn it over.  Would I be willing to sacrifice our “hotelesque” bedroom for a bar? I turned it over. That’s it? The price was thousands less than I imagined.  

I turned back to see him standing there, gloating.  I had to give it to him, when you are right, you are right.  But I had to play this smart, I had to make sure he still intended to get our bedroom set.


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3 Responses to The Bar

  1. Lyn

    I love your descriptions and detail.

  2. Dan

    And I’m still right about the bar

  3. Sheri

    So love the bar…the Lounge is one of my favorite places!!!

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