domestic loveliness

My great neighbor K is getting her house ready to sell (and I won't even SAY how much that makes me want to WEEP because she is the neighbor who brings the pitchers of margaritas to the pool, drops Starbucks off on my porch just because and who sent me to the SPA in the Outer Banks).

*momentary pause for blubbering*

ANYWAY, K has a friend (ID) who is a coming-back-into-the-workforce-after-being-home-with-kids interior designer, who has been helping her do some redecorating so that buyers will be salivating to make an offer on her nest of domestic goodness.

So I decided to book my own consult. I've been contemplating some purchases... bamboo shades like Layla (and every other person whose house I covet) has. A new living room rug, because while I like the rug, I noticed it kind of SCREAMS AT YOU in pictures and maybe, just maybe, I should tone it down for a more calm and restful environment. (LORD KNOWS, I need that.)



Anyway, ID came over on Tuesday. I DID clean up quite a bit from my weekend disaster scene, but the place wasn't looking ANYTHING like I would have hoped for my first ID consult.

But she's a mom and she's been there. And in the middle of our consult, her daughter called to go over instructions for making brownies, which I totally LOVED, so I stopped freaking about the dust bunnies and concentrated on KEEPING HER OUT OF THE BATHROOM, because DEAR GOD, I do have SOME PRIDE.

(She did make me let her into my Den of Shame, my laundry room, which I did show on the internet, so really? It's no secret any more. I have a lot of furniture in there that I plan to refinish (one of these days) and she wanted to see it. I first asked her if she had a recent tetanus shot, and then I let her in.)

She gave me some great ideas about sprucing up what I already have. She's all about re-using and not buying new stuff. I was kinda hoping to buy new stuff, but since it's tuition paying season again, it's probably better that I don't.

After our therapy session meeting, I was feeling pretty good about my house and its potential. And the fact that I could stop shopping for rugs on Overstock.com and I don't have to watch the video about how to measure my windows for bamboo shades. On her way out the door, she told me that my neighbor had a couch out on the curb, and since I am a lover of almost all curbside treasures, I grabbed Shout's (formerly Little One's) hand and practically ran down the street.

There was a very nice slipcovered couch on the curb. It had seen some wear, but for my basement and the prepubescent boys who would be sitting on it playing video games, it was just fine. But it was missing some cushions.

The neighbor whose house it was had her door open and I could see she was standing just inside the door, so we went to knock to ask about the missing cushions. (Which as it turns out had been picked up by some other treasure hunter, rendering the rest of the couch pretty much unusable.)

But, she invited me in for a second so we could chat and I stepped into a Sanctuary of Loveliness that left me speechless.

Me. Speechless. (I know.) Right here on Mulberry Street.

It was as if I had been transported Down Under. To Sarah's Beach Cottage. (Warning, if you've never been to Sarah's beach cottage, go potty and get yourself a beverage first. You will be there for awhile.)

It was beachy and breezy and white and flowy and everywhere, there were little accents of chippy, distressed, old wood furniture painted in the colors of sea glass.

It literally took my breath away.

Who knew, in such an unassuming little house with toys strewn all over the yard and little kids playing in the grass and a minivan parked in the driveway (just like mine), there was this haven?

Which immediately made me think, "Can I come over with my coffee and laptop every morning?" And then, right after that, I thought, "*I* could do this." It was very undesigner-y. And no offense to designers. If I could afford it, I would have my house decorated by one. But this was casual, and worn and lived in and blended in completely with the three little kids climbing all over the furniture.

All her stuff came from IKEA (the upholstered pieces) and Craigslist. CRAIGSLIST. I could DO that.

So I am on a new mission. As the Nester said, "Make THIS house your dream house." This house may be small, and I may have some hand-me-down furniture that is here to stay, and there are toys everywhere, and I have an IKEA budget and Ethan Allen taste, but I could make my house a nest of loveliness.

Or if not me, my neighbor who offered to scour Craigslist for me and help me achieve my beach cottage dream. I wonder if she delivers Starbucks.

(With this, I am also unofficially announcing that I am a new contributor over at Blissfully Domestic. My first post is all written out in my head, but hopefully will be written out and posted soon. Then I will be official.)