When I was about fifteen, my parents decided to hire an interior designer. His name was Val, he charged a small fortune (or at least I assume he did, based on the fact that he essentially lived at our house for two months while he sifted through piles of curtain fabric samples and such), and he did a very nice job, save for the fact that he covered the walls of our kitchen with a paper featuring French quotes about love on the very same day that my French boyfriend broke up with me and utterly destroyed my heart. 

(I walked into the apartment - already in tears from our breakup conversation - took one look at the kitchen walls, and collapsed on the floor, screaming "WHYYYYYY?" To which my mom, to her credit, responded, "Oh, Jesus, Jordan. Get off the floor.")

It's safe to say that I've never been super into the idea of hiring an interior designer myself. I mean, I have my own ideas about what I like, and while I may not be especially good at things like planning and foresight (which means that my decor plans tend to undergo a lot of revision as I discover that, say, the rug that I ordered in no way fits in the room I intended it to live in), I also don't want to spend thousands of dollars for a service that, to my mind, seems a little...I don't know...indulgent?

Wheeeeeeeeeee

When I bought our new couches, my primary concern (besides the fact that they're...you know...white) was the fact that they're also small. They're muuuuuch better-proportioned for our living room, but still: they really just amount to a loveseat and an armchair. It turns out that they're actually super comfortable and totally work for us - those wide arms make them feel much bigger than they are - but prior to discovering this I made the executive decision that our living room needed an enormous, smooshy addition to soften the blow of losing our enormous, smooshy Couch Boat.

It was then that I remembered The Beanbag. The Restoration Hardware beanbag, to be exact. I'd seen someone post about it - or maybe a pop-up ad? I can't remember - and ever since then it had been flitting around on the edges of my mind as a completely ludicrous obsession. You would be correct in thinking that only a crazy person would spend a thousand dollars (yes, you read that right: we're talking about Restoration Hardware here, remember) on a beanbag. But LOOK AT IT.

Magical Thinking Duvet; Kantha Blanket; Lulu & Georgia Lamp

Our bedroom is very, very light. Very bright. I like this, generally speaking, both because sun-filled rooms make me happy, and because being woken up by children wayyyy before you want to be awake is easier when you're not laying in a dark, cozy cave.

Kendrick disagrees with me on this point. He has been annoyed by the brightness of our bedroom for going on two years now, but excuse me, I was not about to hang massive, heavy blackout curtains in our breezy, poolside room. I love him and all, but one must draw the line somewhere.