You know how when you’re looking for love, you go on a string of crappy dates, but when you’re all “I am dating myself” you meet someone great? (Disclaimer: This has not actually happened to me, but I hear it has happened to others.) That is sort of my new (as of today) feeling about the house hunt. I am not going to date my rental (because that would be weird), but I am going to chill out and let the house come to me. In the meantime, I am going to decorate the house in my mind, because that always makes me feel better.
Since Mr. TRF and I have a hate-hate relationship with all of the sofas in our house, we’ll have to get new ones. This hot piece of cushiness ain’t cheap, but hey, it’s not the bazillion dollar version from George Smith, ($12K for a sofa? Who does that?) so in my mind it’s a bargain.
I’d like to acknowledge our beachy location without force-feeding you starfish, so maybe a few coral pillows to scatter about? Yup.
Only one hundo per pillow? Rad. Let’s get four!
When I say I love surfing, what I really mean is “I enjoy sitting on my tush and watching documentaries about surfing.” Therefore, a little Leroy Grannis is in order.
How about a complete overhaul of our bedding, starting with a bunch of Kerry Cassill loveliness?
Maybe mix in a little John Robshaw for good measure?
OK, I’m tired from all that fake shopping. Time for something I can afford: a latte.