The once complete dining room with a grand cherry wood table, a filled China cabinet, and dark vintage wallpaper is now empty, beige, and full of light. It was one of my favorite rooms, though probably deemed outdated by the standards of this month's House Beautiful and Better Homes Than Yours--sorry, Better Homes and Gardens. So it just had to go, didn't it?
I take after my father's taste: the belief that we actually live in Versailles, and should decorate accordingly.
As inviting as a room without furniture could be during the day, the room transforms into an entirely black abyss at night. I think we all have those rooms, the kind you jet past when all the lights are out. We don't like to admit to it, but we do.
Pebbles, my blind, deaf, epileptic, and cancerous cocker spaniel often makes herself comfortable, as comfortable as she can, in it's corner; matching the blonde color scheme of the room. She just sort of blends in, sitting there, cocking her head at unhead signals.
I once saw a man disappear into the room, just caught the shoulder of his white dress shirt pass the doorframe.
But these sorts of things are just normal around my house.
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