This is the Rolf-Benz 3100. It is very expensive. More options to come.
My friend Erin wants a recliner. Or, according to Erin, her husband wants a recliner...but let's be honest: We all kind of want a recliner, even though we know that recliners are the furniture equivalent of minivans.
Erin wants a recliner.
Couch | Pillows | Throw | Nude Beach Print
I remember when I bought my first Grownup Couch™; for all the fuss I made about the thing, you probably do, too. That couch lives with Kendrick now - I kept the consignment-store set that used to be in our old living room, and that is now dying a slow death thanks to the fact that it is white (rrrg, also totally my fault).
Our division of assets was eminently fair - way beyond fair to me, honestly; I kept the vast majority of our furniture after our split. But I did still have a moment of mourning for our old Couch Boat when I moved into my new place and discovered that the new family room is an absolute behemoth of a space, and would have been the perfect spot for the thing. And the amount of money I had available to spend on couches after, you know, lawyer's fees and mover's fees and such was something like $2.
I continue to have never in my life watched an episode of Fixer Upper (except for during my post-surgery recuperation saga...I think...but I was in a bit of a fugue state and cannot be expected be held accountable for - or remember - any choices made during that time period). And yet I am so in love with virtually the entire Hearth & Hand collection at Target that I'm kind of embarrassed by the level of my affection.
I am afeared it makes me a bit basic.
But whatever. Call me basic. It's so good.
Kendrick asked me the other day whether it's weird for me to live in a house that I don't own. He knew how important to me it was; the ability to work on a house and make it my own felt like...I don't know, like an intrinsic part of who I was. And the pride that I got from home ownership after many years of not thinking it was anywhere within the realm of possibility for me was enormous.
But you know what I said to him?
"Eh. I kind of love renting."
Pendant Lamp | Table | Blanket | Bed | Rug
Here is a nice - but also slightly vexing - thing about my kids' new bedrooms: They are huge. Like, twice the size of their last ones. (Thank you, Gods Of Real Estate That Isn't Located In Silicon Valley.)
And like I said, that's nice, and they love them, but those cavernous, popcorn-ceilinged (why) rooms presented a bit of a decorating conundrum...which was compounded by the fact that on moving day, I discovered that neither of their beds could be removed from their old bedrooms without being disassembled. And since both of those beds were from Ikea (his; hers) and thus required Herculean disassembly and reassembly abilities, and because the idea of having to do all that Herculean dis- and re-assembling on the exact same day in which I was upending my entire life was less-than-appealing, I just sort of...left them there. (Kendrick came and got them later; don't worry, I didn't bequeath The Ikea Problem to the new owners.)
