Nothing special here. We lived in Brooklyn, in a teeny 300 sq ft, four-floor-walkup studio apartment with one cat. Then we got married. Got restless. Bought four-bedroom house. Moved in with nothing but a beat-up old sofa, one bed, boxes of books and lots of ideas. And got two more cats.

If someone (I) had told the credit card companies/bank accounts/my husband every little thing I want to do and change about our well-preserved (but bizarrely-updated) 1926 colonial, they may have had second thoughts. At least one of the three would have run screaming. But they (I) didn’t, and so here we are, headlong into putting our spin our new-old home sweet home, and about to come face-to-face with not just the fun bits like picking out furniture and accessories, but also the gritty bits like knocking down walls.

It’s all I think about so I might as well write it down.


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