Excuse me as I pop this cat-got-the-cream photo here. It is I, Mistress of the shiny forehead, wearer of 80s-looking denim jackets, and owner of...a home.
An actual one. 1930s semi with a porch and everything.
In fact, here I am sat in it. On the floor of the second bedroom, basking in yesterday’s first-proper-visit, can’t-believe-my-luck sunshine, in front of a mural that says ‘Do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate your mind on the present moment’ (if it weren't for it, we wouldn't have to paint the room 🤦), and next to one of two GIANT (and hideous) wardrobes we didn’t know were being left behind, and have to figure out how to take apart.
Yesterday was about furniture buying, and paint-sample-pot-getting, and carpet looking at (I know, I know - it’s not very ‘trendy’ to have carpet, but what can I say? We love a thick pile underfoot). What happened with it all, you ask? (Or don’t, but here I am to tell you anyway). ONE) the furniture buying didn’t happen because, after returning to the shop, we realised it wasn’t quite what we were looking for. TWO) we painted 6 squares of grey on the lounge wall and decided upon @valsparpaintuk’s Empirical Grey (I’m excited and terrified in equal measures to paint over all the white). And THREE) we’ve a fitter to come measure up the lounge, dining room, stairs and landing next Saturday.
How was your Saturday, my loves?