You wouldn't know it to look at me, but I live in the lap of luxury. We refined people of taste and breeding know better than to brag, but for my vast crowd of admirers I am willing to bend the rules.
Yes, I have an interior designer, and let me tell you, darling, he is priceless! His creativity is sheer genius. Of course, he has been given artistic carte blanche. What else could one do?
Who knew that Captain America stickers would look so fantastic on the recliner, the kitchen wall, the carpet, and the dog? Or that the end table in the living room becomes a handy TV-viewing nook when flipped on its side? A few scribbles with a ballpoint pen add a personal touch to the computer monitor screensaver. Couch cushions can become NASA ejection pods or a bridge across shark-infested waters.
There is a trampoline in my bedroom. Apparently it's been there the whole time. Again, who knew?
An entire roll of Scotch tape is just what my bedroom door needed. No refrigerator is complete unless one has attached a fully-functional mini basketball net. Paper towels and toilet paper make great rugs. This is cutting-edge stuff.
There is an intriguing sculpture underneath my oven. I call it "Still Life with Froot Loops and Yellow Truck".
I dedicate this post to my brilliant grandson, the best designer I know. I love him and love seeing the world through his eyes. Don't ask to borrow him, ladies...he's mine!
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