Basement Rooms and Reusable Furniture

Since the start of this semester, I have come to this realization: having classes in building basements is the bane of my existence.  At least, I feel this way on Tuesdays and Thursdays because for some strange reason those are the days I suffer.  I enter, having been exposed to crisp temperatures moments earlier, only to enter the heat of the underworld.  I had two classes on Thursday, one at noon and the other at three and both in the basements of separate buildings.  I had prepared myself, equipped with a chilled water bottle and removable jacket.  After my first class, I left feeling feverish and convinced I had contracted an illness.  My face was flushed, my throat lethargic and I quickly escaped the fever-inducing miniature auditorium.  My three o'clock class ensued the same way except instead of guzzling my water, I held the cold plastic to my face while my professor theatrically read Longfellow.

"It was the schooner Hesperus, that sailed the wintry sea"
Forty five minutes left? Kill me now.
"And the skipper had taken his little daughter, to keep him company"
I must have a fever.  I need a thermometer.
"Blue were her eyes as the fairy-flax, her cheeks like the dawn of day"
If I wanted to sit in a sauna for an hour I would have paid for a gym membership instead of tuition.

The heat and humidity made my mind blur and I craved a Dr. Pepper slurpee.  My husband picked me up in our Avalon.  I quickly cranked up the cool and rolled down the windows.  I appreciate that Brennon hid his "My wife is crazy" look well.  With hot cheeks and a heat-induced headache, we began our errands with less excitement than I had earlier anticipated.  First, we would go to Michael's for Valentine decorations.  Then, we would drive down State Street to Deseret Industries to look for furniture and finally make our way to the grocery store for Super Bowl odds and ends.  It is depressing how the effects of heat can change Valentines Day into a stupid holiday, furniture into useless room additions and food into an unnecessary necessity.

Luckily, my attitude quickly changed as I entered the pick and red garnished isles of the craft store.  A feeling of domesticity came over me as I searched through heart-shaped decorative signs and festive candy dishes.  I felt proud as I unloaded my craft supplies onto the counter.  As I looked over my purchases I thought "My mom is gonna be so proud of me".


Next, we made our way through the traffic of the University Parkway and State Street intersection until we spotted the red, white and blue DI building.  I was secretly looking for a set of chairs but I didn't allow that hope to run wild.  My DI experience has taught me that if you go looking for a specific item you will by no means find it.  But go with no ideas in mind and you can find quite a plethora of knick knacks.  As we entered, I was welcomed by the aromas of used clothes and old books.  Brennon and I headed straight for the furniture sections and my eyes quickly skimmed the mismatched chair compilation.  "There's nothing here" I whispered, not wanted to insult the other chair shoppers.

Then, I spotted a tall, pine green shelf.  It was a tall corner shelf.  It had four shelves and a cabinet door and its green paint had been sanded around the edges.

The flashback came on strongly.  A green dresser bought in poor condition.  After being shined and painted numerous times, it had served many decoration purposes.  Next, a wooden bench that seemed out of place.  Once sanded smooth and painted black, she roughed the edges for a more rustic look.  My mom has a way of making old furniture look beautiful.  She says "The great thing about furniture is you can use and reuse and paint it different ways".  As we shoved that tall shelf into our small Avalon I thought "My mom is gonna be so proud of me".