Last night we were up till freakin' 2 o'clock in the morning arranging the formal living room. And I do mean formal, people. Remember last Thursday's post when I told you about the very significant differences in Mike's and my taste in home decor? Southwest meets medieval Gothic? Well, here's a glimpse of how one room came together.
I call this the "I'm sorry for your loss corner." Just position a pleasantly somber man in a suit nearby and replace the kids' pictures with a sign-in book and we've got a scene straight from Six Feet Under.
My contribution to this corner is the Southwest hand. Mike had to settle for a baby grand piano only because he couldn't find an operational harpsichord.
"Gomez, darling, would you light the candelabra?"
We had to rub my fake dog Stiff's nose in his fake poop for this one. Really, Stiff? Next to Joan of Arc?
Somehow it all comes together. I keep telling Mike we need some color in here, but he insists that beige is a color.
And now for something completely different...
The guest room, designed by Linda Lou and Mike's 6-year-old daughter. (His kids call this "the cool room." Duh.) Yeah, that's a shag area rug. Yeah, that's a papasan chair. Yeah, that's a blow-up bed. You can't see my collection of crystals from this angle, but they're there. Okay, maybe I'm a little stuck in the 70s, but at least it's the 1970s, not the 70s of the fifteenth century.
Mike is a saint, I tell you. I tease him about his taste, but God knows it's classier than mine.
My grandson Connor will be sleeping there tonight--yay! He arrives at 4:10 today. I cannot wait. Good thing his biological clock will be set three time zones ahead of ours--I think it's going to be an early night. I'm exhausted!