In the immortal words of Carrie Bradshaw in the masterpiece, Oscar worthy, time-capsule necessity Sex and the City 2 “I’ve been cheating on Fashion with Furniture.” Once the actual moving house happened the real dirty stuff began.
I’ve been in the same paint, blood, sweat, tears, alcohol and plaster dust splattered sweat pants all week and it hasn’t been pretty. I felt like I should sleep in the bathtub to avoid dirtying up my shiny, new fingerprint and schmutz free home.
But I am bathed now, salved and wearing (somewhat) clean clothes. There are fresh flowers in vases, my shoes are sleeping orderly and peacefully in their lairs, the candles are lit, the wallpaper tiles are hung. When did I become a fucking grown up?
This is one of those oranges covered in cloves. I made it 100 years ago but it still smells amazing. I also have the scars all over my hands from pricking 8487365 cloves into a bloody orange. And it’s sitting in a Wedgwood teacup. It’s Christmas decorating Pioneer style.
My first ever project using a power tool. Booya! Floating shelves.
How cute are those chicks, BTW?
The winner receives, ummm, the winner gets, errrrr, warm fuzzy feelings of genius.
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