After, starting my etsy store on Sunday, I’ve almost completed my first sale, which is a pretty amazing feeling. My hand-painted dresser and nightstand should be shipped out to Georgia early next week.
My husband may be less thrilled about the sale when he needs to build a create to ship the thing.
A young girl starting college and moving into her first apartment bought the set, and while I was finishing putting a few extra coats of varnish on the furniture I got to thinking about when I started college, moved into a new state and got my first apartment. I hate to sound like an old person here, but it really feels like it was only a year or two ago, but it has been nearly decade.
I remember how new and important that move felt, and how painstakingly deliberate every piece of decor I put out became. I didn’t expect this feeling, but I feel all sappy about being a part of someone else’s first experience in the real world.
Which has brought me to my next crafting inspiration, one for myself and not my store. I still have that tattered old tapestry I bought on the quad my first week of classes, that I hung in every apartment I ever had until I got married. Not exactly sure what I want to come of it, but I’m glad that my silly nostalgic streak never allowed me to throw it out.