I can't help it. I page through magazine after magazine. I read blog after blog. I love contemporary spaces, neutral colors, the perfect chair, painting, blackboard wall. Then, there I am, in a consignment shop on Sunday loving a little wingback chair. Only 25" wide, in a colorway I can't identify but I know will work with the couch. On Tuesday afternoon, after a tough 2 hours ordering the Valentine's Day flowers with my boss, I give in. Call the shop, it's closed, but the owner will meet us there. My boss and I rush over and collect chair. Triumphantly bring it home. All dreams of uncluttered living are put to rest.
It's here, it works, I am not a modernist. Fine.
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