Do you ever suffer from aspirational shopping? I do, all the time. I have this fantasy that I’m a fantastic hostess. (I apologize to those of you who may have been drinking a beverage while reading this; I know how it hurts to snort liquids out your nose. )

At age 55, I’ve just started experimenting with cooking, and I rarely have a clean house, and I don’t have a guest room. But none of that has stopped me from buying top-of-the-line cookware, multiple sets of dishes and flatware, a boatload of table linens, extra dining room chairs and another boatload of bed linens. I don’t want to blame my Mom, but after she passed on, we found a note she had written to herself that said, “Always keep champagne and caviar in the pantry. You never know who will stop by.”  Stop by her one bedroom apartment in a low rent hi-rise for champagne and caviar? Mom, the Empress of aspirations.

Under the last pile of stuff in my Queen bedroom, I have a cute chair that I bought so that I could entertain larger groups (I hope you’ve put down your beverage), and there’s a mate to it in the garage (or somewhere, I’ve lost track). It’s more cottage style than my current Early American dining chairs, and I do want to go more cottage with the decor. But it will take some repair, as it’s a bit rickety, as I found when I tried to stand on it to change a light bulb. I sustained only minor injuries. And I’ve had it for years without doing the necessary repairs. So I’m torn. Keep it or donate it? Indulge my aspirations or be brutally honest with myself about my limitations? Are you starting to see how I could spend 6 weeks cleaning my bedroom?

The last pile.

The last pile.

 

I’m flipping a coin. Heads, I keep the chair; tails, it goes. Tails. How about 2 out of 3? Heads. Tails. 3 out of 5? Okay, okay, it goes. But don’t blame me when you come to one of my sumptuous dinner parties and you have to sit on a box.

Goodbye, aspirational chair.

Goodbye, aspirational chair.

4 bags removed and the Queen bedroom is clean!

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Stay tuned…