I'm not sure what to think. My husband has been way too involved in my scraproom transformation. All coinciding with his renewed interest in my life insurance policy. I haven't made the connection yet, but there's something goin' on...
I've been complaining about my craft room since the day it was created. Although the room was fairly large, it had slanted walls. You'd be surprised how much space you lose that way. And I shared the room with a very large desk, a large television, and two giant pieces of exercise equipment. Once I started getting serious about buying (and storing) supplies, there really ceased to be any space left in which to actually craft. I've totally redesigned the space several times, which says a lot about the lack of functionality since I've only been there a couple of years.
From the moment we moved into our house twenty years ago, we've had this small room on the main level which serves no real purpose. It was intended to be a guest bedroom, but our builder screwed up the floor plan and the room ended up too small and with no closet. A wasted space. I wanted to turn it into a giant closet so I could continue to collect clothes, but closets tend to add little to a home's resale value unless attached to a large bedroom. So I've mostly used it as an office. Or more precisely (since I'm no longer earning a living), a room with a computer. Then a few years ago when I realized our granddaughters were going to be living here permanently, I turned it into a nice space for them to do homework, art projects, or spend time on the computer. Because it was near the main living space, I tried to decorate it as nicely as possible without spending much money.
Kids don't appreciate anything. We had already spent a small fortune finishing our basement into a nice hangout for the girls, complete with a large-screen tv, home theater, game system, and tons of cabinets for storing all the other things kids think they need. They rarely go down there. Then I noticed they weren't spending much time in the computer room, either. When they did go in there, they were trashing the place. But more and more, they were spending every available moment in their bedrooms. Enough's enough. I decided to reclaim my life. And my home. I could have kicked their ungrateful backsides out of the large basement. It has all the storage I could ever dream of. And a big tv. But being the loving grandmother I am (contrary to what you might have heard), I decided to move my craft room into the tiny computer room. (Which, by the way, was my computer room before the grandkids were even born. So there.)
Anyway, to make a long story even longer, I have wanted pegboard since forever. I see craft rooms with pegboard and my evil, sinful nature rears its ugly head. I want your pegboard. What makes you so special?
I have a short attention span and an even shorter memory, so the only way I can remember what I have is if I can see it. Pegboard puts everything front and center. And don't get me started on how unlikely I am to use something if I have to fight my way to get to it. I need to reach and grab without much effort. Yep, I'm a lazy crafter.
So my (sometimes) sweet husband convinced me to boot the kids out (of the room, not the entire house) and move my craft space to the main level. Almost as soon as the decision was made, he was installing a wall of pegboard. He seemed so very eager to do this for me. A little too eager. Now that I think about it, maybe I should see just how securely that heavy pegboard is mounted...
I'm an imperfect Christian woman, married for decades to a mostly-wonderful man, trying to raise two teenage granddaughters without losing my religion. I'm also Mom to two grown daughters and Nana to a super-sweet young grandson and his super-spunky younger sister. I blog a little about crafting and a lot about life. I hope to share more about the love of God and how that love can bring joy into our lives no matter what obstacles we face.