I’ve been meaning to post these, but kept forgetting. Finally found the time to get the shots, clean them up (small room + bright flash = bad pictures, IMO), and post to galleries. But now you can see the results of my sister’s infamous near-disastrous lovely visit while she cared for our animals while we were in Oz. Bunch of pictures behind the cut, but none very large.
(Oh, and one might not be worksafe, unless you have a boss with a great sense of humor. Bwah.)
I must admit I was pleased (and relieved) to walk in and find the house clean — well, mostly, uhm, pretty much, uhm, let’s just say I’m sure it took a phenomenal effort on Khlo’s part to clean as much as she did, given she’s even worse than I am when it comes to a pathological inability to see dirt molecules, let alone worry about them — but we also found it decorated. Khlo took full advantage of the late August blooming season, and had flowers-in-makeshift-vases all over the house. From the dining room… to every window sill.
I actually only have one vase, which was a gift; I can only imagine Khlo on the phone with my mom: “d’ya think I can use glasses, d’ya think they’d mind? because — gasp — there’s only one vase in this house! what do they do with all the flowers they cut?” …she was rather shocked, come to think of it, when I admitted I never actually cut flowers. Yes, our grandmother and mother both cut flowers on an almost daily basis from their respective gardens, and I imagine if Khlo had a house + garden, she’d do the same. I just can’t be bothered, besides, the bloom drying on the plant pleases me just as much (if not more) than a bloom slowly rotting in a glass of filmy water because I’ve forgotten to change out the water and/or just throw the blooms away. Not really one for cut flowers, I suppose. (Too much of a guy, maybe.)
And then, we discover the newly-installed Bathroom Sheriff. And in case you didn’t notice he’s a Sheriff, my sister also labeled him.
Of course a sheriff must naturally have his prisoner… in this case, sitting on the shelf above him.
She even went crazy on the toilet seat (which is particularly amusing, considering that when we moved in, the seat covers were those plastic-vinyl-squishy seat covers, and CP lasted all of about five minutes before going to get new toilet seats for each bathroom).
Y’know, I just never saw myself as the kind of person who’d have something so cutesy as a duck-themed bathroom. It just didn’t seem likely. I’d thought the bathroom was fine with just the two main pictures that had somehow become my ‘guest bathroom collection’ — this is the second part of the two. I believe it was a housewarming gift to my folks, years ago, and it hung in our foyer until my mom redecorated and declared the picture didn’t ‘match’ (since apparently pictures are not allowed to clash with wallpaper). It sat neglected in the attic after that, until I appropriated it shortly after leaving school.
It joined my existing bathroom decor, which began when I moved into my first apartment with some friends. This picture had hung on the guest bathroom wall almost my entire life, and my mother just sort of bore it with a slightly tight expression around the mouth. I thought it was great, though, and loved telling friends, “sure! bathroom’s right through there!” and then watching their reactions as they returned. Hahahaha, amusement when you’re 15.
But around my junior year in HS, there was that whole redecorating thing (complete with Mom badgering Dad to do the wallpapering all the way up the stairs, and that was enough for me to determine I would never wallpaper anything, let alone the heights of a full stairwall) — and she claimed victory over the picture. Because, sadly, it too didn’t match with the new wallpaper, and off it went to the attic. Until I was digging through one hot summer day, looking for things to take to my first apartment. I found it, asked Dad if I could have it, and after he gave a small sigh of regret for not being allowed/able to hang it in his own guest bath, he gave permission.
I think it rather undermines the ‘cutesy’ element of the rest of the bathroom.
The shower curtain, however, is my fault. I admit it. I just couldn’t resist.
