The sheets and comforter cover outing that led me to muse on the (in)efficiency of cities eventually got washed and suddenly, the bed looked all grown up.
I think Stephanie and I struck a pretty good balance. I didn’t want anything too masculine, and she didn’t want anything too feminine.
I hung some things on the wall last weekend.
It’s amazing how things on the wall change the look of certain spaces. In some ways I kind of like bare walls, partly because they make a space feel clean and uncluttered, but also because I tend to find the irrevocability of pounding nails into [walls] a little unsettling.
Frames and framing things can be pretty expensive, and when moving from apartment to apartment, hanging the same old pictures and photos on the walls seems kind of like I’m pretending that I’m actually not in a new space. Probably for that reason alone, (and procrastination) I neglected to hang anything on the walls for the last oh, 6 months.
I did have a photo printed to hang on the wall—one I like of the Golden Gate Bridge—but after I receiving it I had second thoughts about hanging it while I live in San Francisco.