It took exactly two days into lockdown for my husband to realize that our home was a hot mess.
I was in bed, minding my own blackhole of Covid transmission-related news, when Miguel suddenly turned to me, his eyes brimming with accusation, “How come our pillowcases don’t match?!?”
I stared at him, uncomprehending at first. We’ve been married for five years and our beddings NEVER matched. We had an erratic laundry schedule so we always just used what was available-even if it meant some pillows would be covered in pastel stripes while others with blue and white flowers.
That conversation didn’t end well. There was a brief shouting match about the patriarchy and male entitlement (why is home upkeep solely a woman’s responsibility?) as well as a he-said, she-said take on who was more irresponsible when it came to laundry duty (a chore we had both been equally neglecting).
His comment was foreshadowing what the extended quarantine would make more painfully obvious in the coming months. The longer we were forced to stay inside, the more all our clutter and disorder seemed to taunt us.
Objectively, our home is a sought-after space. We had a spacious one-bedroom flat right smack in the financial district, with big windows that allowed for beautiful sunrise views and lots of natural light throughout the day. We’ve always seen it as our start-up home- something we’ll eventually lease out when we have children and would need a bigger house. And the unwillingness to spend too much on something temporary along with the constant travelling we did for work, made us both very detached from it. By year three, it functioned more as a storage facility where we also conveniently slept, before escaping to another hotel room where the freshly laundered sheets always matched.
The pandemic changed all of that of course. Apart from exposing the Philippine government’s incompetence, it made the flaws of our supposed sanctuary glaringly apparent and unavoidable. So we did what every other Youtube-raised millennial did best, we googled some DIY videos and made it our lockdown project to fix our home. I was the Creative Director and my husband was the Contractor, who promptly and gleefully ordered all kinds of power tools from Lazada.
He did make one request though: he didn’t want a house that felt too stiff and curated. He wanted the freedom to lounge around, without worrying he might break something. I wanted a home that reflected our quirky personalities and interests. We decided to take inspiration from a cozy apartment we once stayed in at Paris, The owner was a jewelry designer and she had a white shelf filled with books, paintings she made, and art prints she gathered from her travels.
Living room of the Paris Airbnb we stayed in that served as our home improvement inspiration
Despite our agreed upon roles, the project didn’t always go according to plan.
A French restaurant below us closed down and my husband asked me if he could buy some of the crates they had used for storing wine.
“We’re supposed to be decluttering, remember?”
“I could really use it as a plant holder, and even as a stool”, he reasoned.
I acquiesced thinking he’d just get five or at most seven, for his balcony garden- a de-stressing hobby he’s had even pre-dystopian times.
My husband ended up buying 19 crates. Yup, not nine, nineTEEN. It was only when he brought it home, that he realized he bought too many. The wooden crates took up every available walkway in our tiny home. For weeks, our legs were constantly bruised from accidentally bumping into them. Miguel, after I had stubbed my toe for what seemed like the fiftieth time, decided he’s never going to buy anything for the house without consulting me first.
After months of combining finds from online vintage furniture stores with trusty IKEA favourites, our house started to feel more apartment therapy- worthy. The best part was, I found a way to use and hide the crates- as a storage area behind the couch!
Spotted: Miguel in his natural state right after lunch. When there are no guests, we use the aqua seat covers for the couch instead of beige (because Miguel likes to put his feet up) and Horace’s (the dog) toys are scattered everywhere so he could easily find them.
P.S. I really do deserve an award for managing to hide all those crates.
Our home is still a work in progress. My latest pain point is our kitchen; its grease-stained walls had largely gone unignored until I started to cook meals more often. I’m happy to report though that our pillow cases and sheets now match. My husband and I had also worked out a better system to make sure our laundry is done in time. WHAT IS GROWTH? haha
But like with most things during this period, this exercise made me more present to the luxury of being able to stay inside. And intertwined with gratitude are the pinpricks of guilt that we have it easier than most. As a friend wisely put it, “Now more than ever, it falls upon the shoulders of those safely sitting in their plush leather couches to hold this government accountable.”
I don’t have a plush leather couch; but if I could spend hours googling DIY home improvements, and waiting for online vintage furniture drops, then I have more than enough time & energy to speak up and contribute.
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