You know how when you’re look­ing for love, you go on a string of crappy dates, but when you’re all “I am dat­ing myself” you meet some­one great? (Dis­claimer: This has not actu­ally hap­pened to me, but I hear it has hap­pened to oth­ers.) That is sort of my new (as of today) feel­ing about the house hunt. I am not going to date my rental (because that would be weird), but I am going to chill out and let the house come to me. In the mean­time, I am going to dec­o­rate the house in my mind, because that always makes me feel better.

Since Mr. TRF and I have a hate-hate rela­tion­ship with all of the sofas in our house, we’ll have to get new ones. This hot piece of cushi­ness ain’t cheap, but hey, it’s not the bazil­lion dol­lar ver­sion from George Smith, ($12K for a sofa? Who does that?) so in my mind it’s a bargain.

I’d like to acknowl­edge our beachy loca­tion with­out force-feeding you starfish, so maybe a few coral pil­lows to scat­ter about? Yup.

Only one hundo per pil­low? Rad. Let’s get four!

When I say I love surf­ing, what I really mean is “I enjoy sit­ting on my tush and watch­ing doc­u­men­taries about surf­ing.” There­fore, a lit­tle Leroy Gran­nis is in order.

How about a com­plete over­haul of our bed­ding, start­ing with a bunch of Kerry Cas­sill love­li­ness?

Maybe mix in a lit­tle John Rob­shaw for good measure?


OK, I’m tired from all that fake shop­ping. Time for some­thing I can afford: a latte.