On making a liveable home.

Lately I've been looking a little at furnishings. I've found myself at home and felt decidedly uncomfortable. I've tried to do a couple things to improve this over the last few months—most notably, I picked up two CD towers so I can start to listen to CDs again—but my apartment still feels rather unhomelike: my computer desk doesn't seem to fit the work I need to do; my chairs aren't really comfortable to sit in; there's no place to invite a guest to sit and be comfortable. It's a place where I live, but not much of a home, even for someone who's moved around as much as I have.
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Last week, the School of Life uploaded this video:

A good little essay about building a home. Agreed, agreed, agreed. It's very difficult to build a home that... feels like home. But it's terribly important nonetheless. https://t.co/8Fl6c4MFNa

— Jeffrey Nordstrom (@jeffnords) February 6, 2018

In the written summary of the video, they say,

Creating a home is frequently such a demanding process because it requires us to find our way to objects that can correctly convey our identities. We may have to go to enormous efforts to track down what we deem to be the ‘right’ objects for particular functions, rejecting hundreds of alternatives that would – in a material sense – have been perfectly serviceable, in the name of those we believe can faithfully communicate the right message about who we are.

We get fussy because objects are, in their own way, all hugely eloquent. Two chairs that perform much the same physical role can articulate entirely different visions of life.

But right now, what does my home say about me?

​My one-bedroom apartment

When we lived in Hope, I liked the hand-me-down aesthetic we had as a family. We had grandma's couches, a different gandma's table, and the rest of the furnishings were typical young-family Ikea fare. I felt pretty comfortable with that aesthetic. We didn't own much furniture, but that was more than OK with me.

However, when it came time to replace the sofa, I discovered that I'm a far more picky person than I ever expected. No matter what sofa I looked at with my wife, I didn't like it. I saw problems with all of them. This was extremely discouraging for both of us. And although we replaced that couch eventually, we never really had one I was happy with.
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I still haven't bought a couch. Last summer, I bought a cheap leather loveseat off of Craigslist and put it beneath one of my kids' loft beds, but I don't really have a living area that's couch-worthy, that has room for anything. See the photo I posted a couple weeks ago below: my bed's in the living room; there's an enormous plastic folding table, and quite simply not the room for a couch. 

Gotta' admit it's nice to have a clean-ish apartment. Hoped to have a friend over on the weekend for a bit, but it fell through. Silver lining: apartment is kinda' clean. pic.twitter.com/JBq7Yq0G3F

— Jeffrey Nordstrom (@jeffnords) January 30, 2018

So what does my home say about me? Here are my suggestions:

1. I like to have space for everything, but I don't consider tidiness a value worth fussing over.
2. I like to have places to be, but don't prioritize visitors.
3. I value my children since they have their own room.
4. I value my music because it takes up more floorspace than practically anything else.
5. I have no desire to make sure everything matches.

Since I moved to Agassiz, I can count on one hand the number of non-family people who have visited my apartment. I'd like that to change. I want to be social again. But perhaps that won't happen as long as I don't prioritize making my own space a social space. 

So I'll keep an eye out for a good couch. And I'll have to get a smaller table one of these days.

​Until then, I'll keep the place clean enough for... me.