bedroom set japanese style
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Sophia's M
My husband and I live in a 1200 square foot bungalow which has two bedrooms down stairs and 1 full bath. Upstairs has 1 large Bedroom and Half Bath...We want more children in the future but we don't see ourself moving anytime soon. I am trying to find a good way to make more space for my child and her toys and things. Any tips
Answer
I am also in a small space - 900 sf 2 bed / 1 bath apt - and we have a toddler and twins on the way.
Our lease is up at the same time I am due. It would be really bad timing to move, so we plan to stick it out here for a year and get into a larger place next year.
We've adapted by making our space very child centered. We have a train table instead of a coffee table. The kitchen is too small for a full-size dining room table, so we sit Japanese style at a toddler-size table. The living room is the play room (as well as my daughter's room). The living room also houses our computers and office stuff which we have compactly on one wall. The futon couch doubles as a guest bed when we have company.
My daughter's closet now has two rods for clothing (one high and one low) to accommodate the twins' wardrobe. Her bedroom has enough room to have 2 beds - a full size bed for co-sleeping/nursing and a smaller toddler bed. Her BIG tent will have to be packed up once we set up the toddler bed, but we plan to replace it with a smaller collapsible version. The train table may also temporarily go into storage to make space for some baby gear.
In your situation, I would make the large upstairs bedroom into a play room and let the rest of your house be relatively clutter-free.
I am also in a small space - 900 sf 2 bed / 1 bath apt - and we have a toddler and twins on the way.
Our lease is up at the same time I am due. It would be really bad timing to move, so we plan to stick it out here for a year and get into a larger place next year.
We've adapted by making our space very child centered. We have a train table instead of a coffee table. The kitchen is too small for a full-size dining room table, so we sit Japanese style at a toddler-size table. The living room is the play room (as well as my daughter's room). The living room also houses our computers and office stuff which we have compactly on one wall. The futon couch doubles as a guest bed when we have company.
My daughter's closet now has two rods for clothing (one high and one low) to accommodate the twins' wardrobe. Her bedroom has enough room to have 2 beds - a full size bed for co-sleeping/nursing and a smaller toddler bed. Her BIG tent will have to be packed up once we set up the toddler bed, but we plan to replace it with a smaller collapsible version. The train table may also temporarily go into storage to make space for some baby gear.
In your situation, I would make the large upstairs bedroom into a play room and let the rest of your house be relatively clutter-free.
Critiques on the beginning of my short story?
Christine
I'm 18 and I haven't written a story in years! I've also never taken a "formal" class in writing (not until next semester) so I'm sorta flying blind at the moment. I read a lot, so I've taken tips from reading.
Well, here goes nothing!
Good morning, evening, or afternoon. Guten tag. Bon matin. Salutations to whomever has taken this rare opportunity read the raw recollection of a suicide.
M A Y 28th
Jesus, the sun is bright this morning. What time is it?
7:52 AM. Later than usual. Next train to 14 St leaves at 9:15. Need to leave manuscript by Teresa Gunnâs office by 10:30. Lunch date with Jess today at Deusenbergâs at noon(-ish). Would it be too early for sweets? I could use some tiramisu, maybe a hot mocha to wash it down.
Last night I dreamt of China again: there lay Allison and I, bareback on a bamboo canoe silently praying to the Leshan Buddha, and subsequently asking ourselves if we were supposed to pray at all and whether we were as educated on Eastern philosophy as weâd thought while flipping through The Lotus Sutra for reference. That conversation was very much real, along with the brief pseudo-romantic excursion to China, and both took place about three years ago amidst a summer of heat and Southern floods; however, in place of a boxy bespeckled redhead lie a grizzly TV fat guy named Jonah whoâd insisted on bringing Ramen to China as if it werenât a Japanese dish. I called him my fiance.
I stretch my arms towards the mahogany headboard and yawn. Monday morning is serenaded by violent honks and garbage truck engines. Theyâre reciting the same old stories verbatim, little tales of tense mashed potato dinners forced down with $15 Pinot Noir and an impending sense of Kafka-esque delusion, and a 10th-grade English teacher recommending a boy with a duster coat and a dream, dizzy off of paint thinner, to retake the course. The tastes of stale memories and morning breath coat my tongue, and the faint scent of my daily maté floats up from the kitchenâ¦no, no, it doesnât.
Meow. Lilyâs up. Feed her, change her litter box. Do I have time? I should be out by 8:45, and Iâve already lost three minutes to my thoughts. Get up. Get up. Get up.
I get up. A gray tail peeks from under my bed and wraps itself around my ankle, threatening to pull me in. Lilyâs very hungry.
A profound rumbling is heard from next door. No discernible clue as to what my neighbor could be doing, but heâs quite loud. I glance in the mirror, stopping to admire myself in the airy oversized flannel shirt Iâd slept in. It hadnât belonged to anybody significant to my life--at least, I donât remember. There are no clues left in or on the plaid; at some point it emit the faint scent of coffee grinds, but it smells like me now.
The matéâs aroma still lingers like a ghost in the halls, easily overpowering the scent on my mind. There was no maté tea brewing for me, not anymore; any day now I could hop to IKEA and buy a little kettle of my own--fill it with boiling water, honey, and a few herbs--but nothing could replace Allisonâs rusty yellow teapot, and the collective fragrances from swanky tea leaves would take years to reproduce. Iâd rather stick to my coffee.
8:01 AM. Time is moving so quickly this morning. I rip open my flannel, lower my panties, unclasp my bra, and grab my towel off the desk chair. Somehow my eyes land on my mons pubis. Iâve grown rather fond of my own
Another two minutes lost to my thoughts. Canât miss the 9 AM to Greenwich. I wrap myself in the towel and glance around my bedroom for Lilyâs cat food. The rumbling has grown louder, almost sounds as if itâs resonating from downstairs. Itâs a starving, unending growl akin to a black bearâs borborygmus--the profound echo of...the pipes, I guess. Call the landlord after lunch to check it out.
âCome, Lily!â I call, beckoning my kitten by patting my knee. She peeks up out from under the bed, but immediately pulls back into the shadows. Perhaps sheâs not hungry yet. Iâll feed her after my shower.
Answer
I absolutely love the first bit. It really hooked me, as all great openers are supposed to. However, it sounds a bit awkward, and I think all those greetings are more confusing than they are necessary. Make it a shocker of a first sentence instead. Something like, "Good morning and salutations to you, who has taken the time to read this raw recollection of a suicide." Or something. I don't know. It's a difficult line to make sound right.
After your opener, though, there's a lot of random information all thrown in there at once, which is a bit confusing for the reader. Unless you're George R.R. Martin, or your readers are all highly intelligent beings, it's best to leave some stuff to the imagination, or to be revealed later on. Your first chapter should tell us who the protagonist is, what her goal, motivation and problem are, and the setting. We don't need to know all about her flannel shirt unless it's important to the plot, like if later on she gets stuck taking it off and suffocates to death or something. That bit about the neighbour was unnecessary too. Things like that.
I also love your writing style (Kerouac ish?) and the quick, snappy, diary-like way you've set it out. Just be careful not to bore your reader with mundane activities like: "I ate breakfast. I took a leak. The plants need watering. I'm out of bread. There's cat hair on my overalls."
Your story seems pretty cool so far, so keep working at it! Good luck, and I hope this helps. :)
I absolutely love the first bit. It really hooked me, as all great openers are supposed to. However, it sounds a bit awkward, and I think all those greetings are more confusing than they are necessary. Make it a shocker of a first sentence instead. Something like, "Good morning and salutations to you, who has taken the time to read this raw recollection of a suicide." Or something. I don't know. It's a difficult line to make sound right.
After your opener, though, there's a lot of random information all thrown in there at once, which is a bit confusing for the reader. Unless you're George R.R. Martin, or your readers are all highly intelligent beings, it's best to leave some stuff to the imagination, or to be revealed later on. Your first chapter should tell us who the protagonist is, what her goal, motivation and problem are, and the setting. We don't need to know all about her flannel shirt unless it's important to the plot, like if later on she gets stuck taking it off and suffocates to death or something. That bit about the neighbour was unnecessary too. Things like that.
I also love your writing style (Kerouac ish?) and the quick, snappy, diary-like way you've set it out. Just be careful not to bore your reader with mundane activities like: "I ate breakfast. I took a leak. The plants need watering. I'm out of bread. There's cat hair on my overalls."
Your story seems pretty cool so far, so keep working at it! Good luck, and I hope this helps. :)
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