Just about every surface in my home is spilling over with books.  You'd also think I was running a daycare with the number of cheerios wedged between the cushions of my sofa.  Not the honey nut kind, the bland cardboard kind they feed to babies.  No, I haven't hatched a brood of my own while I've been away, I've been eating them of my own volition.  Clothes, clean and dirty, lie heaped up on my dresser and shoes are tossed about like they've been at sea.  Is summer cleaning a thing?  Because I desperately need to clear some time on the calendar to take care of that.  Instead, I've been curled up (with my box of bland cheerios) reading hot water bottle books and allowing my anglophilia to develop even further.

What about a broad, bold stroke to dash it all away and replace it instead with this modern masterpiece?  I cannot get over the downstairs living space in this home.  I think I might need to extend the bookshelf in the living room a bit more to fit my absurdly large collection but I could manage to throw the biggest and best book club parties around that monster kitchen island.  And then we could segue that into a big pool party afterward.  Sounds like an idyllic summer evening, doesn't it?