You see the thing is this: moving the bread bin in Chez Brocante is
akin to having finally noticed the huge pink elephant blocking the
view through the bay window and summoning a crane to shift it. The
bread bin was the first thing I carried into the house, the day
it was finally mine, nine years ago. It is white and french and wooden
and pretty and I love it. But the the day I moved in I placed it on an
angle in the corner of the kitchen, right next to the sink, and it has
been there ever since, big and white and immovable
The bread bin you see, was one of my domestic blind spots.
Domestic Blind Spots are closely related to the aforementioned Domestic Mental Block, but instead of being tasks we can't or won't do, they are things we would simply never consider moving. They are objects or pieces of furniture, or pictures hanging on the wall, that through provenance, function or emotional pull, have acquired permanence so significant we simply stop seeing them, let alone consider moving them. The very idea strikes us as ridiculous, or never strikes us at all!
Even when we decide to overhaul the room, spring clean or completely re-decorate we work around these blind-spots, and it is only when we are faced with something of a decorative crisis, when a room is no longer functioning as it should or indeed when entering a room makes our heart feel so heavy we can no longer tolerate it, that we finally get around to switching on our internal fluorescent lights and really seeing how our very own domestic blind spots are dictating the arrangement of a mantel, a room or even an entire house.
Today, faced with a kitchen that had simply ceased to work, counters that felt cluttered and an overall feeling of chaotic claustraphobia, I stood, cold hands stuffed in the patched pockets of my pinny and something went ping in my brain. The bread bin!! If I moved the bread bin to the other end of the kitchen I could free up essential space next to the sink, the world would seem a brighter place and the bluebird of happiness would come sit on my shoulder forevermore.
And now, seeing the transformation, I am a woman on a mission to seek out my other blind spots. Don't get me wrong- this isn't an easy task. You wander around your house and you only see what is glaringly ugly, what isn't working, or what drives you plain old nuts. But you don't see the things you love, or at least you don't automatically blame them for the failure of a room or a decorative scheme. So you wander around feeling puddled, ignoring your blind spots and never quite getting to the heart of the problem until your brain pings and you finally really see.
Seeing is the answer. Looking at the things we love before we try to banish those things we don't is the answer. Standing still and waiting for the ping is the answer Housekeepers.
It might take nine years, it might take nine minutes... but just knowing the Domestic Blind Spot exists is a very good start...
Think about it. |
Then Go Mix Yourself A Monday Night Cocktail Darlings!
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