For five years our living room pointed at the television. Not in a dramatic way. We aren't big TV people. But every piece of furniture in that room had quietly lined up facing one wall, like students facing a chalkboard. The sofa looked straight at the screen. The armchair looked at it from the side. Even the rug seemed to be pointing that way.
I noticed it properly one evening in late February, when my sister came over and the three of us adults tried to talk after supper. Ben was on the sofa, my sister was in the armchair, and I was perched on the ottoman. To see each other, everybody had to twist. Within twenty minutes we'd drifted back into the kitchen and were standing around the counter instead, which is what always happens. The next weekend, Ben and I moved everything.
The room we were working with
Our house is a 1958 brick ranch, and the living room is a fairly typical one for the era: roughly 13 by 17 feet, with a big front window, the original hardwood floors, a ceiling fan in the middle and a wide opening into the dining area. There's no fireplace, which is part of why the TV had become the focal point by default. A room wants a center, and if you don't give it one, the biggest dark rectangle wins.
What we had to work with:
- A sofa (about seven feet long, a bit too big for the room if I'm honest)
- One upholstered armchair
- A wooden rocking chair that had been living in the corner as a blanket holder
- An ottoman, a coffee table, two side tables and an assortment of thrifted lamps
- A 5 by 8 rug that was always slightly too small
What we changed
We made the conversation the center
The single biggest shift was turning the sofa ninety degrees so it now runs along the long wall instead of facing the TV head-on. The armchair and the rocking chair moved to face it across the coffee table. Now the seating forms a loose U, open on one side toward the front window. Everybody can see everybody else's face without twisting.
The TV moved to the side, not away
We didn't banish the television. Lila has her Friday movie night and Ben watches college basketball this time of year, and I'm not interested in a house rule that makes people grumpy. The TV now sits on a low cabinet on the short wall. From the sofa you turn your head a bit to watch it. That small inconvenience turns out to be exactly the right amount. It's there when you choose it, and it's not the first thing the room asks of you.
Seats closer together than felt natural
I'd read somewhere that chairs for conversation should be no more than eight or so feet apart, and ours had been closer to eleven. Pulling the armchair in until it was almost uncomfortably near the coffee table felt wrong for about two days. Now it feels like the chairs are listening to each other.
A bigger rug, secondhand
The little rug floated in the middle like a bath mat. We found an 8 by 10 wool rug on a local buy-and-sell page for $60, faded in a way I love. It's large enough that the front legs of every chair and the sofa rest on it, which pulls the whole group together.
Little things that helped
- A lamp at every seat. Each chair has a lamp within arm's reach now, so nobody's sitting in the dark and the overhead light can stay off.
- A surface at every seat. A place to set down a mug matters more than I thought. The rocking chair got a small stool beside it from the shed.
- A basket for the remotes. They live in a lidded basket on the bottom shelf of the TV cabinet. Out of sight is a strong suggestion.
- Something to do with your hands. A deck of cards and a jar of dominoes on the coffee table. My grandmother always kept dominoes out, and I finally understand why.
What I'd tell myself before we started
Measure first and draw it on paper. We moved the sofa three times before Ben finally got out a tape measure and sketched the room on graph paper, which is what a land surveyor should have done in the first place, and he would like me to note that he said so.
Live with it for a week before deciding. The first few days, every arrangement feels off because your body expects the old one. I kept walking to where the armchair used to be.
Watch where people actually sit. Pepper chose her spot within an hour, on the rug in the middle of the U where she can be stepped around by everyone. Lila took the rocking chair, which nobody had sat in for years.
It's been about two weeks now. Last Sunday afternoon, while a cold rain came down outside, the three of us ended up in the living room playing a long, loud game of dominoes that Lila won through what I can only call creative rule interpretation. The TV was off the whole time. Nobody suggested turning it on. The room simply had something better to offer.
