Do you ever find yourself walking by a piece of furniture, only to turn back and stare when it squeals like a girlfriend who just got engaged softly calls out to you? Well, that happens to me all the time. Only the pieces that I’m notoriously attracted to are usually thousands of dollars in chic beachside boutiques. Or historical family heirlooms (read: not for sale) that have been beaten to a beautifully weathered pulp.
I’m not satisfied with either of these options, which means I’ve got to get creative.
Que rolling up of sleeves and rubbing together of hands as I cackle evilly. (I know, I’m weird. I can’t help it.)