Further Tales of the Parisian Whorehouse

My gawd, once you start to look it’s EVERYWHERE and it has been all along.  These are my bedsheets, which I bought last year but only took out of the package last week.

kind of “urn-y / matches the putti” don’t you think?

I couldn’t even wait to make the bed before I had to take this picture to share with you.

I am not working at work doing work type work today! I’ll be folding clothes to donate, cleaning the kitchen and repotting houseplants. In fact, I may take out the trusty Scunci steam cleaner to hose down the kitchen. Now that the sunlight is slanting at a different angle, the kitchen looks like it could use a good sanitizing. Might not sound like much fun to you, but when you’re tied to a laptop 11 hours a day for all eternity, believe me – what I have planned is a real treat. throw in the bonus activity of a son and a husband powerwashing the outside of the house, and you have a real suburban picnic going on.


UPDATE: I just found the suit Sami wore for our wedding on his “donate” pile. This is what I wanted, right? To get rid of unworn clothing that  was taking up room we could use for something else. And it’s not like my own humble wedding dress is a shrine – it’s been worn to proms and Halloween events and i’m not even sure where it is right now. I would like to see my veil and silk-orchid bouquet again, though (insert daughter’s name in ACCUSATORY CAPITAL LETTERS here). Anyway. Whatever. But I had a moment there.

1 thought on “Further Tales of the Parisian Whorehouse”

  1. The French Whorehouse lives within you! It had to happen.
    I get the little twinge at the suit going. My husband still has his, but it’s miles too big. He was quite a bit bigger when we were first married. We still keep it.

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