Soft Edges
Photo courtesy of Gratisography
Sunday, April 5th, 2026When I moved two years ago, I only took three pieces of furniture.
A bile-yellow pedestal dining table. A navy blue perforated metal credenza. And a set of iridescent acrylic coffee tables that make rainbows when the sun shines through them.
Everything else I let go.
I thought, briefly, about recreating my old living room. Just… smaller. A greatest hits version, if you will. Then I recognized I didn’t want that kind of psychic continuity.
Same furniture, same person. But I’m not.
So I’ve been looking. The color palette I’m drawn to hasn’t changed much—still hovering in that hard-to-name zone of bright-but-muted, tertiary colors that sound made up when you try to describe them. But the shapes are different. Softer. Rounded. Almost suspiciously gentle...
The sofa, the dining chairs, the bed frame—they all feel like they’re in quiet agreement about something.
No sharp edges. No urgency. Just… cohesion.
Even the fabrics are aligning. Thick, woven, slightly felted. The kind of material that can take a hit and ask for more. The sofa and bed both have ¼” topstitching along the seams, which now feels like a theme.
I might have to add it to the dining chairs too.
Even the rug is rounded. Not circular, exactly—just… committed to being a little wonky.
I love it.
The dogs will destroy it immediately. An off white rug is a terrible idea. Whatever. I’ll figure it out.
There’s something really satisfying about realizing how little I actually need to feel comfortable in a space.
Not sparse. But intentional.
The softer shapes feel less like a trend and …more like I can finally let my guard down.
I’ll be taking my things out of storage soon. They’ve been in hiding for the last two years. It’s just in time too. The last time I was there, one of the bottom boxes was starting to bow out.
A gentle warning.
I’m ready. I’m excited to have my things back. The pink giraffe. The wicker elephant. My grandmother’s cuckoo clock. The wooden lamp that will soon be sporting a fake bird lampshade.
I love a good menagerie.
At the end of the month, I’ll be picking up the sailfish from my aunt’s house. It’ll be going in the office so it can quietly dominate every Teams meeting. I’m thinking hats. Maybe a mustache. Possibly some wigs.
We’ll see how she feels.
For the last two years, I’ve been trying to figure out what I want to do next.
And when I’d think about the times in my life where I’ve been happiest, it’s always been the brief stretches where I lived alone.
I like the freedom to do what I want, go where I want, eat what I want – without having to cater to someone else or feel their judgement.
When I live alone, I feel like I’m living my best life.
I want to see who I am when I have the physical and mental space to figure it out.
In the last two years, I’ve watched three friends go through breakups that turned their living situations upside down. Not just emotionally—logistically. Suddenly needing to renegotiate space, money, stability, safety.
And I have other friends—three of them—who live alone in homes they own. Their spaces feel like extensions of them. Not aspirational or performative. Just accurate.
I want that. I want to see what it looks and feels like.
Starting with a new build helps. It gives me room to adjust to my own space without having to focus on things that need to be repaired or tweaked or painted, etc. Sure, there will still be plenty of things that need to be done, but at least I’m starting with a fresh slate.
It’s spring time and I sent my cousin a photo of the front yard with a rough outline of where the fence will go. I asked him what I should do with it. His whole side of the family has an eye for that kind of thing, but he and I have more similar tastes. We both own the same fetal piggy bank. It’s his old sailfish I’m getting.
We get each other. I know he’ll have great ideas.
I’ll need instructions, obviously. A schedule. Probably a minor education. What do I know about landscaping? But between him and a local nursery, I’ll piece it together.
The dogs are getting a yard. It’s their first front yard, which feels like it may be a challenge for all of us. Wally is going to bark at everything that walks by. I’m considering a bark collar. But I’m kind of hoping he gets bored with the barking.
Quickly.
Speaking of, there’s a lot happening. Fast. It’s only been two weeks since I first saw the property. Another week and half until we close.
Buying in Seattle wasn’t the plan. But this is the one that makes the most sense at this point in time. Everything else I was trying felt forced.
I know an opening when I see one… and I know when to take it.
And I did.
The next time you hear from me, it will be mine.
Stay Gritty