Last day of physical therapy for husband. I forgot to bring a book, but I found a magazine I hadn't seen before so I picked it up.
Wow, what a snooty, slick, expensive publication.
I determined that I hated all the chi chi room arrangements. The décor was far beyond anything I have ever seen in any house inhabited by any human being of my social class. Yes. I admit that there may be some sort of class and I may be in it, but it sure wasn't the class pictured in this magazine.
One sofa cost $81,000. ONE LOUSY SOFA! I sincerely doubt anybody ever even sat on that sofa! The room was sterile white. White carpet. White cat. Off white sofa. No table, but some sort of prongy thing in silver on the floor. I thought it might be a fancy magazine rack, but it was empty. Or it was just art. Anyway, there was a stack of books on the floor...too pathetic to have a bookshelf, but plenty of room for a very expensive sofa.
Lots of houses with incredibly expensive and sterile everything. Kitchens of stainless steel, clean as a whistle, a wine cooler the only sign that it was even used...certainly no dirty dishes in the sink, but the very best granite countertops. Everything gleamed and glistened from sunlight pouring through floor to ceiling windows.
The bedrooms, however, were aflame in reds and orange. Who could sleep with those colors blazing around the platform bed? Again, books on the floor and no shelves. I now think there must be libraries in these houses because the owners are getting the books from somewhere and the maid servants have yet to put them back.
I don't want a house like that. I want a home, full of love and laughter. Tons of neat crap that ought to be thrown away, books on shelves and on bathroom floors. Signs of life...not picture perfect abominations. I want to live, not be part of a spread in a magazine.
It's a pity that there are houses like this. I feel sorry for the help.