It happened like a thunderbolt in my heart. I couldn't ignore it. Love like that just won't go away.
So even though the dining room is the most finished room our little house has...
I found myself with this.
The hearts aren't working. Forget them.
Forget the plywood back. It needs some tongue and groove. Forget the black parts, the ugly cornice and the fact that it doesn't quite fit the space. I can sort all that.
Look at the paint!
It has real, authentic dirt. And scabby paint. With rust on it. From like a skip or somewhere. I daren't tell you what I paid but I'm sure Mr Flea market Man had some champers that night. He saw me coming.
The old one just seems fake, twee and sanitised in comparison.
The new one is the real deal. I can pretend I live in a Checkoslovakian farmhouse. Obviously splitting my time between there and my imaginary dressing room.
It seems my facebook friends prefer the old one. Honestly! Am I the only one who likes this new one? I believe this look is called 'Rough Luxe.' It's part industrial rusty salvage, part uber shabby chic. It means you can rescue furniture from barns and garages and sell them for ridiculous money. Because it's achingly hip.
I must be achingly hip.
In the meantime, progress on the ceiling?
Er, that would be a ''no.''
Husband is getting a teensy bit fed up with 4 dresser parts and a wardrobe in the kitchen, dining room and hallway. Fortunately he doesn't seem to have noticed that things have ground to a halt in the bedroom. On the whole he just laughs at me.
I promised I would absoloutely finish the wardrobe this weekend to atone for my shopping sins. And make Spaghetti Bolognaise.
Have a lovely weekend.
|Knick of Time|
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|Timewashed Blissful Whites Wednesday|