My roommate moved out yesterday. Did I tell you I had a roommate? It was just for eight weeks. He is my college friend who was doing a law internship in Atlanta and wanted to live closer to work than his parents’ house in Marietta/at 26, who really wants to live with their parents all summer? But now he is gone, and I am blue. JP says this is dumb because Trey (roommate) was rarely around due to mandatory law firm social events (?) and that not living with him will be about the same as living with him. This is true and very practical (aside: JP often refers to himself as “a practical Warrick”), but I will still miss the opportunity to watch episodes of True Blood together and discuss our collegiate shenanigans.
Oh, well. Maybe now I can convince JP to finish painting the study. Practical Warrick himself started painting one wall the week before Trey moved in and hasn’t picked up a brush since. I think he was trying to blame it on the fact Trey was living in the guest room limiting the space he had to spread out his painting supplies. I’m not 100% on what this has to do with anything. It’s driving me nuts, though; not because I’m super clean or anything, but because every time I go into the study to try and find something I have to step through, over, and around ladders, paint cans, drop cloths, et al. My dream is to model my life after this blog. (Or at least the opposite of this.) Particularly when I go into certain stores and the way things are organized in conjunction with the lighting and music makes them feel so much more restful than my house. What is that about? I wish I lived in a Pottery Barn. Or even a Fresh Market.
Disregard that ladder on the right. Who put that there? JP??
Do you ever wish you lived in a professionally designed space? If you did, where would all your stuff go?