I am so in love with white rooms, lately.
They make me want to take a shower ('cause it's white) and then take a long, peaceful nap.
I love how the mostly white rooms feel clean and bright. So free of strawberry jammed fingers and muddy toes.
They feel so opposite of my life right now.
It's just that, well, this would be impossible for me.
I know that if that foyer were clear of shoes and crayons and muddy tracks that it would mean my life was as empty as the space and all of that.
But, it's just so . . so . . .so . . . clean.
So, while I'm glad that I'm sitting at a "vintage" desk with a little boy's name carefully carved out of it's wood veneer, it would be so lovely to instead be writing this post from this desk:
And if I were, I would be wearing a gorgeous, stiff silk.
I know it.
Ah, well. I'll take my soft cotton nightgown, all fifty sticky fingers and my perpetually dusty corners and all that that implies.
Just let me look at your pictures every once in a while. It soothes me.