Ikea and Martha Stewart Oh My!
I ordered Martha Stewart Living by telephone the other day. A full year's subscription. Please don't hate me now, I really do understand what a bad thing it is to be Martha Stewart dependant, but I can't help myself. I will break myself of this when Giampaolo quits his ciggarettes.
We also went to Ikea, I'm becoming a terrible consumer, and bought some really nice things for our house, which has been somewhat shabby for a long time. We purchased:
Blue and Green striped throw rugs for the bathrooms
A floor lamp
A rice paper lantern for our bedroom
A tea kettle
A twelve piece set of silverware
A wine bottle rack
A bathroom rack to store towels and cleaning supplies
We are going back next month for a bookcase and a dresser. First we must paint living room walls.
In other news, although I was thinking about how little I wanted to acknowledge this whole marriage thing, I find myself happily referring to Giampaolo as my husband as much as I possibly can. It just sounds so nice on the tongue. "Sorry, I have to go, my husband is sick and I'm going to make him some tea."
"My husband loves wine too!"
"I'm a teacher, but I also work with my husband at his restaurant."
We are also the worst kinds of newlyweds, telling eachother how much we love each other innumerable times in a day, as though it were the most profound thing to escape our mouths, making love like rabbits and not quietly either (but our neighbors take thier revenge by doing self-remodeling at 7:00am on Saturday morning), and at the slightest change in demeanor we become concerned, "What is it? Is something wrong? Tell me what's bothering you?"
I recognize my encroaching conventionality, and yet, I'm at a loss to stop it, in fact, I'm even enjoying it.
We also went to Ikea, I'm becoming a terrible consumer, and bought some really nice things for our house, which has been somewhat shabby for a long time. We purchased:
Blue and Green striped throw rugs for the bathrooms
A floor lamp
A rice paper lantern for our bedroom
A tea kettle
A twelve piece set of silverware
A wine bottle rack
A bathroom rack to store towels and cleaning supplies
We are going back next month for a bookcase and a dresser. First we must paint living room walls.
In other news, although I was thinking about how little I wanted to acknowledge this whole marriage thing, I find myself happily referring to Giampaolo as my husband as much as I possibly can. It just sounds so nice on the tongue. "Sorry, I have to go, my husband is sick and I'm going to make him some tea."
"My husband loves wine too!"
"I'm a teacher, but I also work with my husband at his restaurant."
We are also the worst kinds of newlyweds, telling eachother how much we love each other innumerable times in a day, as though it were the most profound thing to escape our mouths, making love like rabbits and not quietly either (but our neighbors take thier revenge by doing self-remodeling at 7:00am on Saturday morning), and at the slightest change in demeanor we become concerned, "What is it? Is something wrong? Tell me what's bothering you?"
I recognize my encroaching conventionality, and yet, I'm at a loss to stop it, in fact, I'm even enjoying it.