Will is leaving me to my own devices on Saturday- and instead of going to London with a bottle of vino and a good idea with the girlies like I normally would, this Saturday I’ve decided I will stay at home and strip the wallpaper in the stairwell.
Which is a bit concerning- I turn 28 this year, do you think this decision is the early onset of responsibility or the fact that our bank account can’t even afford a take away this month. My parents will get excited and think this is my ovaries telling me to become a responsible adult and make a grandchild. But I’m trying to convince myself that because its called wallpaper stripping it’s still considered a crazzzyyy wild way to spend a Saturday.
So while I strip this Saturday (looovvvveee it!) I will be scheming up new ways to bring out the diva in Abe.
And it may involve floral stairs?
I like this because every time you walk up or down the stairs it would feel like you’re prancing through a English garden- just not my garden- the only thing growing in my backyard is the neighbours cat shit(another reason Will is getting a dog for his birthday)
If we don’t go for the floral, there could always be blow fish I’ll leave it to you to tackle the pun there
And if we decide that maybe blow fish is just a bit, I don’t know, in your face(?) then maybe pineapples? I love this wallpaper but this shit is super freakishly expensive- like Louboutins expensive
If wallpapering the stairwell means we have to remortgage- maybe a strong wall colour and some trimmings will cut it?
But I just don’t know, something about this print is screaming…. ‘Don’t worry man, relax, just choose me.’
Oh decisions, decisions.
Somehow I think after spending all day Saturday wallpaper stripping I assume the right decorating choice will come me when I least expect it. Like a Anthony Weiner sext.
Did I say I’d be decorating all day Saturday? I meant almost all day. I’ve also got some packing to do because we are off to a special place to see a special friend and her fam on Monday.
One of our very favourite things to do when we get together is dance our pants off. In college we would all go to the middle of the dance floor and do what we called – ‘this is not a demonstration dance’/ bad dancing. There was no slut dropping for us, we got more pleasure out of the funky chicken and people’s faces.
Bad dancing has been perfected over the years and bars.
And now we get to do the bad dancing in Paris! I’m thinking it will be like Audrey Hepburn in Funny Face at the Paris cafe
Haven’t seen it? Don’t bother this is the best scene of her worst movie.
Best Hepburn movie by the way is A Children’s Hour, the first known lesbian romance movie made in the US. Yes and Audrey Hepburn is one of the lesbos!
So excited for the Gadel family in Paris! Xox