I am by no means a great decorator. My stuff matches, and I try to make sure it’s not too cluttered. I look at other people’s houses and think, “that is really cute!” I could help someone else pick out paint colors, but I would probably hem and has over my own decisions.
I might not be able to tell you what I like, but I know what I DON’T like. I know it when I see it.
For some reason, he actually has an interest in how we decorate the house, and what comes into the house. And this somehow turns me into Julia Sugarbaker in 2 seconds flat.
Me: it kills me how this house lacks lighting.
HH: yeah, I was thinking of picking up some lamps for the living room.
Me: um…could you text me a pic before you buy?
HH: now I need approval?!?
Me: yes! LOL!
I mean, bless his heart. But when I came home to this painting above our bed at the old house:
And he came home all proud like, did you see the painting I put up? Yep, sure did. Inside my head I was saying how I hated it (as a bedroom pic), but I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
But now, I sort of feel selfish. He didn’t really bring any of his things down. No furniture, no decor. He just moved in with all my things. So, I’m sure he wants to put pieces of himself around the house. Who could blame him?
And yet, the above referenced painting is in the office. Because I said so. Sigh.
I’ma try to do better. He’s been jokingly saying he’s just gonna go buy some stuff and put it in the house, because “he’s the man.”
I guess I’ll let him. LOL!