You know how sometimes you do one tiny thing to your home - buy a new soap dish or have a couple of throw pillows dry-cleaned - and all of a sudden you get this seemingly-out-of-nowhere intense energy burst that inspires you to overhaul every single inch of your entire place?
Me in my bedroom, about to embark on this project
Button-down | Shorts | Barn Door
In our neighborhood, all the houses are from the '60s, and most are one of two floorpans: either a two-story with an arched front porch, or a one-story with a brick front. Ours is the latter - you can see what the exterior looks like in this Design Sponge article about our xeriscaping makeover - and obviously the smaller of the two. While our home feels bigger than it actually is thanks to the amount of time we spend in the backyard...it's small. And as the kids get bigger, it's going to feel smaller.
Remember my little run-in with a full jar of gold leaf a few weeks ago? (Not one of my finest moments.)
But honestly? I wasn't all that upset about the fact that I'd just completely destroyed my floor with a permanent paint-splatter. Because I'd already decided that I was going to (finally) do something about the terrible, dark-grouted, 1970s-style tile in our master bathroom. And the solution that I'd come up with would mean that I'd be able to fix up the floor (which was tinted a lovely shade evoking a 1981 urinal) as well...at no additional cost.
Stay with me.
This pose is called "Hide The Terrible Horrible Pedicure." I'm basically an expert at it.
So I had this rug in my kitchen, because Pinterest made me do it. And then I realized that having a rug in the kitchen isn't necessarily the best idea, because kitchens are where things like pancake batter happen, and moved my kitchen rug to a more rug-friendly place: my office. And then I realized that I still really like rugs in kitchens, and whatever, that's what soap and water is for (and have I MENTIONED eight or a thousand times that I am a wizard at stain-removal? This is true).
Except I had already gotten used to the way our erstwhile kitchen rug looked in my office.
Note un-sweaty hair and relative non-dishevelment. (This is the “before” photo.)
Our bathroom – the one off of the master bedroom – is easily the most unattractive spot in our house. It is tiny-tiny-tiny (you can barely open the door if you’re standing inside), and is accessorized with nothing more than a dark-brown, 2-inch-deep cupboard that holds literally nothing – even miniature medicine bottles come tumbling out when the door opens. My least-favorite part of the bathroom, though, has to be the color: a vaguely nauseating combo of olive green and beige. Not “forest green” and “ecru”…olive green and beige.
Olive green and beige are not my happy colors.
