I'm working on a post I'm excited about. A fellow French expat I just met gave me a tour of her incredible house. Oh what a house! I'm still under the shock. But I'm waiting for pictures so not yet.
Meanwhile, Karey m. of Mackink heard my
whining distress and urged be to go to this A Cup of Jo post, (with a guarantee that there would be no nymphet threat whatsoever) which led me to this Cookie Magazine article and Karey, you must know my virtual self pretty well because I love this house.
I wonder what's going on with me? The more I read about architecture, design. The more I look at Etsy and drool, the less I actually want stuff in my house. The more my personal stuff feels like an tar-coated albatross around my neck. This morning I packed boxes and boxes of objects I could not separate from, could not live without, in an effort to create more visual space. It's a matter of sanity suddenly. And now I want to let go of it completely. I don't even want it in boxes. I don't want my former precious collectible--now junk--near me.