WSCHT

So I've decided to give y'all a little house tour. Except I don't live in a "house" per se. It's more like a converted work shop. So it's a work-shop-converted-house-tour or a WSCHT. Rolls off the tongue.

Note: I did not clean my house for you. I consider us close enough to not have to do this. It was clean two days ago, that's good enough for me.

Naming houses is a "thing" down here, unfortunately, ours has yet to get to be named. Some of my friends houses have been named the Eagles Nest. The Hot House, etc. But no one is back yet, so our house is just the shop-house-thing until further notice. Mmmkay? I'm glad we had this talk. 

First off, let me introduce you to my roommate. We're weird together. It works. 

This is our little home. I long for the days when the grass won't crunch and scream as I walk through my yard. Please make sure and see that we have a porch. I love porches. That is all. 

Speak of the devil....here's a picture of the porch with my little red chairs from Tarjay. When it's not hot as hell outside, this is my nest.

When it is hot as hell outside....this is my other nest. It's boring. I'm working on it. Art. Fun comforter. Pillows. Nix the Mcdonalds cup. I know, I know, you're thinking, "why would you get rid of such a stately piece of art?" I'm sorry. I just am not savvy enough to make it work.

This is the room where our eating occurs. And living. And eating. It's so big and open and wide. Like a fat italian momma. 

This is where more eating occurs. See how I didn't clean for you? I'm hoping that that massive wall with the dinky TV on it will one day be a massive gallery wall. And that there won't be a teeny TV stand there forevs. And I'm about to burn slipcover the couches in the next few weeks. #plaidmakesmethrowupinmymouth

*Sigh* maybe one day it will be pretty in there. Bonus: we have a cute pouf and the curtains aren't too bad. Baby steps. 

If you close one eye and squint with the other while turning around 5 times fast you don't notice that there is miscellaneous cups/grocery bags/unfinished projects strewn about the table. And that there is only one chair. That random kinda-gallery wall is going to just be a little eccentric wall of things we make/love. 

There will also be more chairs. Next week. They are being covered/reupholstered. I'm just the worst at finishing projects. Forgive me for I have sinned. 

And this is, ya know, the view from the other side. I'm thinking a hip-height book shelf by the door as a drop spot with a chalkboard above. And as much as I love grandma rockers--we're going to paint and recover this one with something really graphic and cool.

That's basically it. There's a lot of stuff I wanna do to make it more home-like. But it's got good bones. We want everyone to come over, so if you see me, say "I'm coming over" and I'll say, "what's the password" and you'll say, "you said I could", and I'll say, "alright". And then you'll come over. 

So to end the WSCHT, I'm leaving you with our source of glee the other day at lunch. 

Mali (the puppy below) shares popsicles with the roommate (I say ewheckno). After she gets a good lick, her tongue goes numb and it would just kinda stick out of her mouth. And we would laugh and mock and slap our knees, minus the slapping our knee part, we're 21 not 65. 

I really wish you could've been there.