Static...

Seth and I rearranged the living room the other day. And I had an anxiety attack. It completely freaked me out that the couch was going to be somewhere else, that things would look sloppy and misshapen, that the pictures were going to be all dorky looking because they were no longer centered and squared to whatever piece of furniture I had previously chosen. And moving the pictures is totally out of the question, because then there would be HOLES in the walls. God forbid.
So, the couch is different. And the chair is different. The TV left its previous home of 5 years and took up residence across the room. Sir William is definitely not the focus anymore, which makes me sad.
Poor Seth. He was trying to crack jokes, make fun and generally ease me into this change, but I wasn't budging. I wasn't happy about the change and wasn't about to pretend to be. He also wants to split the bookcases up "just like 6 inches or a foot". I can't do it. I like them as a unit and to split them up would be a nightmare. Think of the dust that will collect in between, but with out enough room to swipe a broom. Nope, it's not going to work.
So I was cleaning the kitchen this morning and making coffee and thinking about why it was/is so hard for me to accept this furniture rearrangement. And I though of my mom and dad's living room arrangement. It hasn't changed. Ever. Since 3rd grade, so what is that? 25 years? I've never had to deal.