Well, I suppose I had better acknowledge the problem before it gets out of hand. I can't stop looking at pictures of people's rooms. This is a strange fixation for someone who rants on about the end of the world as we know it, and currently lives on painted plywood subfloors. When I open my browser,
Apartment Therapy is there. I have no intention of moving - ever - yet I check real estate listings just about every day, and I can tell you how much and whether the kitchen is updated for most houses currently on the market in my town. I was thrilled,
thrilled, to discover that we now live in an area where the IKEA catalogue is delivered in the mail.
Back in my early twenties I used to buy magazines and persisted in that habit until I couldn't afford them anymore. Then I found them and big coffee table decorating books at the library. Now I get my fix online. More shelter porn every day than I could ever have dreamed of back in the day. I don't know what this says about me. I don't have a fabulous house and no grand plans to create one. I don't have the time, actually, because I haven't seen all the pictures on the internet yet. And I can stop anytime I want. Really.
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