Somewhere back in the early days of this blog I'm pretty sure I wrote about our house. For those of you too lazy to go looking for that particular entry (including me - I'm not positive I even wrote about it), I live in an ancient one and a half story home. Built in 1836.
When we bought this house 34 years ago there was a room on the main floor that we used as our den. I'm pretty sure that the old lady that lived here used it as her bedroom.
This old house also has only one bathroom - on the main floor and, naturally, the bedrooms (2) are upstairs.
A few years ago Petey and I started talking about making a bedroom downstairs. I just couldn't picture it so we just kept putting it off. Something happened in August (nothing specific - just a feeling of "let's get this thing going") and it came together by mid to late September.
This room is not as big as our bedroom upstairs which has a king sized bed in it so we knew we had to go smaller. Hence, the queen you see before you. We also knew, because of the room size, that we didn't #1 want a foot board and #2 the head board needed to be "see-through-ish." Mission accomplished.
Next up was a closet. This house doesn't really have any. The one upstairs is kind of a "Homer and Jethro" closet so we were shooting for something better. At first we thought we'd have something built in the room but then we took a look at our little laundry room right behind the "new" bedroom.
Because we didn't build a closet in the room, we had enough space to leave a recliner and small table. The door on the right leads into the enclosed back porch where I have my torch.
Ta-da! We're calling it a walk-in closet. Just like the rich folks.
And now all I have to do is make an about-face and I can hang clothes up, quick like a bunny. It's a wonder, I tell ya.
The absolute best part of being downstairs is the nightly trip to the bathroom. I actually danced my way there the first night.