Saturday, February 21, 2009
It's official: I took my first few steps inside unit 403 as a homeowner on Friday.
Hands down, my favorite thing about this condo is the view. I looked directly past the popcorn ceiling and the bizarre wagon wheel stain on the carpet, and saw the twinkling lights of the Tribune building.
Flash back to to an evening when I was seven years old, begging my aunt and uncle to take me home with them to SF so that I could see all of the city lights on the trip across the Bay Bridge. Amazingly, my mom caved and let me climb into the car with them (wearing my nightgown,) and nose to the window, I drank in all of the glitter. I always loved stories about people's lives, and to me those lights were a visual representation of stories unfolding.
Breathtaking, electric life.
Then I looked up.
The preponderance of hideous overhead light fixtures in apartment buildings must have something to do with the popularity of Home Depot. About 5 years ago, Home Depot's administration had a summit and decided that the only overhead lights fixtures worth carrying resembled a woman's breasts.
Boob lamps, I call them. And like their namesakes, they come in an endless variety of styles. Some are small and pert, some have clearly gone bra-less, and others are downright ornate. For example, mine looks like it was lopped off the chest of an extra from the set of Pirates of the Carribean. After giving it a few friendly titty twisters, I decided that it was going to have to be the first thing to go.
Not that I have anything against anatomically-inspired decorating elements. I am a devoted fan of pillar candles and pinwheel cushions. Maybe it's me---I just can't handle the competition of an FF cup dangling over my head at breakfast.
So, off it goes, and along with it...the popcorn ceiling.
Who was the creative genius that dreamed up popcorn ceilings? I would really like to thank him/her for blowing my world-weary mind. I thought I had caught the major highlights, but popcorn ceiling inventor, you have humbled me. I don't think that my feeble imagination could have generated a stranger ceiling texture solution...it is almost ugly enough to warrant praise.
Without dangerous eyesores like PC, the booming asbestos removal industry would have meager opportunity to put on their sexy NASA gear and rescue damsels from the dark fate of bad design and respiratory failure. But I digress.
Lumpy, boob-like or stained, I absolutely love my new home. I love it and I told it so many, many times today.