The project we're currently finishing is The Master Bedroom, which should be wrapped up by the end of next week. We were supposed to be painting over the blueberry smoothie vomit stained walls this weekend, but apparently, tonsillitis is some big flipping deal that requires rest and antibiotics and not stuffing two paint soaked rollers up each nostril for fun.
Yes. You read right.
YOU CAN THANK OUR STUPID SUCKY TONSILS FOR THIS STUNT.
And I say OUR because apparently tonsillitis and strep are contagious even on holiday weekends. AREN'T THEY, ANDREW?
So. Instead of coming over to your house for hot dogs and rounds of Who Wants To Light The Roman Candle Between My Eyebrows, I'm just going to post pictures of my favorite old lace top. You know, the one that I wore while waiting two and a half hours to see a physician for five minutes who gave us three prescriptions that we waited forty five minutes to have filled which have given us zero relief in over twenty four hours.
Yeah. That one.
Anyway. This top has nothing to do with the renovation, but it's silly and pretty and feminine and sort of screams, Maaaybe I'm vintage hip and legend worthy in the sack or maaaybe I wear granny panties and drink English breakfast tea with tiny cubes of sugar in it.
And, SERIOUSLY, other than that, I'm not sure what else a Master Bedroom is supposed to say.