Well, it's happening. My little rental is going to be on Apartment Therapy. With all of its weird fake wood trim and its patchy drywall and uneven floors, all exposed. And as you may have noticed, whenever I take pictures of rooms around the apartment, the good parts of each room bounce around. That fucking ampersand pillow has been photographed in every single room of my house. I don't think I can keep up that level of smoke and mirrors when the photographer comes.
I'll have to find a way to staple gun those cables to the wall. I'll finally have to take a magic eraser to the weird streaks that have been on my kitchen door since I moved in. I'll try really hard not to kill my plants or spill red wine on my rug before she gets here.
I'm going to try not to freak out that much about the fact that all the other tours on their have West Elm sofas and Restoration Hardware beds, and I don't have anything in my house that cost more than $100 (except the record player, which was $125, but I sold an old one for $40 to help pay for it, haha which might be sadder than it just being $125 anyways).
But it's my first house with Andy. It gets great sun in the late afternoon. It's hosted big brunches and small dinners, movie nights and wonderful guests. Big meals have been cooked in its kitchen, great naps taken in its bedroom, ridiculous makeup applied in its bathroom. So sure, it's not fancy, and commenters may tear it apart, but it's my home and I love it and I'm so grateful for this super cool opportunity.