Home Sweet Homes aka the Case of Bipolar Interior Brain


I’m in one of those house moods. Where I hate half of everything in my house and┬áthe other half I’m like “Ok, I guess you’re fine.”

It’s so difficult not to dislike so much about your living quarters when you have a website like Pinterest that constantly reminds you that your house just ISN’T. And to add on to this current feeling of “Augh I don’t like anything…(whine whine whine)” I also can’t decide what style I’m into right now.


French Antiques. YES. Yes please. Is it velvet? Is it tufted? Does it make me think for a millisecond I might be Marie Antoinette? Then DUH of course I love it.

Primitive. Rural. Country. Yesss. Chippy chippy furniture and dark oaks, yes. Can I picture myself wearing fog linen apron dresses? Obviously.

Mid century modern clean lines teak gorgeousness. I’ll Take It! Will I for a smidgen of a second feel like I’m in Don Draper’s office? Cool. But stay away man. I’m spoken for!

Woven baskets, kilim rugs, 1970s pottery. Um, duh! Can I just play my Joan Baez and Joni Mitchell records now?

I must be going through the early stages of your 30s that older women told me about when I was in my early 20s. That your 30s is when you REALLY┬ástart figuring yourself out. Well, I’m 31. I’ve pretty much figured out this much:

I don’t like bright colors.

Grey linen or any linen really, I will always find beautiful.

Also, I don’t like bright colors.



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