
It's been raining all week here. It seems like I've written this sentence before. Husband and I are ping ping ping (the sound of saving pennies) for our house. Ah, for the days with no student loans and the ability to buy a house with nothing down!

I'm getting so restless. We looked at a few houses last December just to "see." We found our Dream Home. We walked in and both loved it. This has rarely happened to us with anything (other than each other.) Not when I wanted to give Junior a third middle name of Placido, and not when Husband opted for a GRAY station wagon for my recently bikini waxed car, because it had low miles and was safe. He dresses quite formally, and I dress with flowers in my hair and different colored finger nails. We both have weird idiosyncrasies. He doesn't own jeans! I hate to eat at the table. He listens to NPR and I would never admit to this. I smirk when people start a sentence with, "Today on NPR, I heard..." (yes, I'm quite the brat sometimes.) But we both like sushi, our kids, and our cat. Lazy walks on the beach during sunset while holding hands. Romantic candelit dinners at Nobu and Charlie Trotter when in town. Exotic foreign travel, having adventures, sitting quietly in an independent bookstore reading Proust to each other, all while just loving life! We feel as comfortable in scrubs as in cocktail dresses. Neither of us is a felon! See? We're okay! We can withstand whatever sacrilege I might commit onto hardwood floors should we get our Dream House. Oh wait, for the record Husband isn't a tranny or a cross dresser, it's just part of our ad.

Ok, so what is this post about? It's about our Dream House which is still on the market. I still think it's supposed to be ours! And with all the crap going on in the world, I'm just going to start thinking like it's mine. I'm going to start planning like it's mine. Then, if it's not mine I can still apply all my fantasies to the house we do eventually get. If the world blows up in the meantime, I still had fun. Another few months... nobody buy it, okay?

I think I have the decorating bug. All the nails fall out of the walls here. Unless a camera flash is used, I can't photograph the apartment very nicely, and an indoor flash is blog suicide. I miss doing Casapinka, when HGTV was contacting me and Domino had me on their links. When people weighed in on whether I should hang Frida Kahlo in Husband's study and risk extermination. It was fun! There was action!

I'm planning on white floors in the living room of our Dream House. I can't believe nobody has bought it, and yet I can because it's supposed to be ours. I think it only comes up on the MLS for us! Ahhh, the backyard. The pretty white kitchen. The snooker room. In this little book that is one of Juniorette's favorites, it talks about making dreams happen by visualizing them, like on an actual board. Wow, I'm doing so well with the cliches today. C'mon, you guys - Wayne Dwyer for 7 year olds is still better than saying all pretentiously, "Today on NPR..." So, I'm visualizing right here on Casapinka. This is my dream board.

When we get our Dream House, I'm going to have them prep the wood floors (they're in bad shape so they'll need it.) Then, I think the best way to do the white floors - only in the living room so stop commiserating with Husband already - is the following:
1. Make sure Husband is out of town or at least on call
2. Buy a Roomba
3. Forbid shoes
4. Ask for forgiveness rather than permission. I learned this saying from the man himself, along with "Economy of Truth." Economy of truth goes something like this:
Husband: Are they coming today to do the floors?
Me: Yes!

So, what do you think about white floors? Any experiences? In a sunny room in a cloudy state...it's got to be destiny. Have faith, have faith, have faith, Pink!
via Style Files, Trust your Style, Home Shopping Spy, Apartment Therapy, Purple Area, Boat Shed Chic, Apartment Therapy, and Beach Bungalow 8