A complimentary Ikea catalogue was delivered to our house about a week ago, and it made me realize a very important thing: I want a grown up house. Desperately.
Like, with a bathroom that has matching shower curtains, rugs, and towels. And a bedroom with matching furniture. And a kitchen with matching pots, bowls, and cutlery. And a fancy washing machine that has more buttons than I know what to do with. And like, dark mahogany wood book cases complimenting my leather furniture. Or something.
A house with three bedrooms: ours, a spare, and one I can start decorating as a nursery (browsing Pinterest too much lately).
I want a house that I don't have to share, except with friends I invite over.
And I want to have a library. A massive library with all of my books, plus all of the books I want to read, plus the awesome editions of books I love (full hardcover British versions of HP, plus that version of the His Dark Materials books that spell "His Dark Materials" on the spines when all three are sitting together.)
And that, my friends, is my thought for the day.
Ditto, darling.
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