So I am anxiously awaiting the new Ikea catalog. Not because I love mass-produced furniture made by the Swedes. Or because I can never seem to make it out of that store in a good mood because it is one huge maze and everything seems to end up in my cart.
No, not that.
But because I love to plant my sweet ass on the sofa and simply flip through that catalog, page after page. I like to see how family friendly their designs are and how I can incorporate the ideas in my own home. And it's not just the Ikea catalog. Its the Pottery Barn catalog, too. Shoot, I'll even sit down to pour over the SureFit catalog--and I don't even use slipcovers. Not to mention the stacks and stacks of Better Home & Gardens, Country Living, Country Home, Cottage Living and InStyle I possess. We've already gone over my magazine addiction so we won't get into that one again.
But I digress.
The thing about this catalog is...it makes me a very grouchy, disgusted, and unsatisfied mama. Seriously. I start looking around my house with contempt and a snarl on my face.
Ugh...look at this place. I need new stuff. I like vintage and all, but for once I'd like not to have to sand and primer and paint everything. I would die for a drawer to open smoothly. Hiss. It smells in here. Its the sofa. I wish I could get a new one, one without the tiny rip in the corner that Michael created the first week we bought it. We need knew duvet covers. How many times can you wash pee out of a duvet? I hate my room. It needs to be painted. I've had these two wicker chairs for a decade now--eww! Some of that new wicker furniture would be nice! That fuzzy carpet! A closet for Michael's stuff! Shoe organizers! Drapes! Wine glasses! A place to hang my jewelry! More rice paper lamps! My kitchen cabinets are scuffed. A whole new kitchen would be nice. Ooooooh, look at the kids' stuff. A loft bed...the boys would love the loft bed. A swing hanging from the ceiling would be cool. Who am I kidding? My savages would have the roof caved in within hours. Sigh. We need new stuff. Ugh...look at this place.
I've come to realize that reading home improvement magazines affect me more than if I read, say, an InStyle magazine or an Allure. Do I fret that I'm not skinny enough to wear that dress...or have full enough hair to carry off that hairstyle? You think it would motivate me to work out...get on a diet, etc. Nope. I simply enjoy the fashion stuff for what it is. If anything, I bemoan the fact that I am not rich and can't afford to go to fabulous luncheons where they are auctioning off handbags...or splurge on spa treatments...$300 shoes...professional blow-outs...expensive makeup.
But the home improvement magazines get me right here. Where it hurts. And what I am beginning to realize is they breed discontent in my soul. I look around and instead of being thankful and grateful for what God has provided, I gripe. Instead of pondering the less fortunate, I am wishing I could pitch everything I own in the trash and start fresh. And oh! The desire to have lots of money. That's what it boils down to, right? If I had lots of money, I could live like the people in the magazines. I could buy everything I wanted, naturally.
Discontent and greed are a nasty combination. But this magazine/catalog habit is a long-standing one. One I know will be hard to break. Now, magazines in and of themselves can be harmless...it's my own mind that is in need of regeneration.