So let’s talk about how home decorating blogs are essentially my crack. They are what get me going in the morning, well, besides breakfast and the TODAY show. My morning nourishment consists of a bowl of special K with soy milk, as I am the self-proclaimed Queen of the Lactards, and then a decaf green tea because who needs caffeine at 8am? Wait, everyone?? I then go straight from the office kitchen to my desk where I “work.” I sign into Google reader, find Apartment Therapy and the shaking and cold sweats begin to subside. There is something about looking into the homes of other people that makes me so at ease, unlike the people whom I stare at with binoculars from my bedroom window. I just want to know how other people live. Do they dine under pendant lamps or put their feet up on an upholstered leather ottoman slash coffee table that I dream about at night. These are the things I think about. I guess I would call myself a “Nester.” One, like a bird, who nests in a space to make it their own. I want my space to be comfortable and warm and inviting, especially to an attractive young dentist (I love teeth) whom I can charm into dating my crazy a** and giving me free teeth whitening.
If I won the lottery, I would hire Nate Berkus (Oprah’s unfortunately gay interior design guru) to decorate my home. His style is the perfect combination of comfortable, clean and personalized. Eclectic items from his travels, warm and cozy materials, and could you not just stare at him all day long as drool drips down your chin??
I go through these phases where I fixate on what to buy for my apartment. Depending on my mood, these phases can last anywhere from 1 day to indefinitely. For example, I found my bedding while perusing Crate and Barrel one day with my mom. I was not planning on buying anything, just checking out the bedding scene, but then out of the corner of my eye, I see it. Beige, muted detailing, made of part linen. Everything I never knew I wanted. It was love at first site. On the other hand, I’ve been searching long and hard for a great piece of art to hang behind my couch. Something edgy and loud, yet still sophisticated in a street art made of oil paint kinda of way. You see why I’m having trouble? But like all good things in this world, they come to those that wait, so my wall stays bare and empty, like my bank account.