The "thing" needs legs.
Early this morning I cruised Springdale for a sofa on the curb. By the time I got there it was raining and the sofa looked lonely. I guess I was doing somebody a favor by getting it off the street.
After trying to unscrew the legs, I hoisted the sofa onto the truck and headed home. I attacked with crowbar, hammer, and razor knife. It was glued, doweled, screwed, and stapled but I finally prevailed as it started raining harder. Nice legs.
The house is a mess, the back porch is a mess, the back yard is a mess. Why not make a mess in the front yard too? This is where it's going to stay until it stops raining and I can get the other three legs off. I know the neighbors are whispering.
We now have junk everywhere, 24/7.
Don't do this at home.
We're testing bedroom colors tomorrow. If all goes well tomorrow, I'll paint three test colors. The theory is that we'll have one wall - the one with the headboard - painted dark and the other walls a much lighter version of that color. Will it make the headboard disappear? Will it go with the red lamps, the pink tile, our tender fashion senses? The test will tell.
|HC-71||This is the maximum chocolate color.|
|HC-68||A bit lighter and grayer.|
|( Classic) 990||What about much less contrast?|
This is a fair representation of the headboard colors:
Here is a reminder of the where the "dark wall" will be.
The headboard isn't that dark.
Carpentry ahead. I have to remove the legs from the junk sofa and install them on "the thing."
I'm not dreading the job, I'm dreading doing it poorly.
The legs don't just screw on.
Did I mention that our new headboard is actually a footboard. It's one of those classic decorator finds: Turn a footboard into a headboard. For our experiment (see the picture of the headboard above), we propped the "headboard" on top of the bed. That thing is heavy.
I'll have to build something for it to sit on. I guess it will be a narrow box, sanded smooth so it won't snag our sheets and hair, painted black. The design is up for grabs.
More tomorrow . . .