In an attempt to evolve my home decor concept past the point of everything-animal-themed, I’ve come up with a new thing:
Prints, Patterns and Plants.
(Also, wood and baskets but it doesn’t sound as catchy when I say all that.)
What this pretty much means, is that this year Santa will be receiving the link to Skinny laMinx’s 2013/2014 Lookbook, in lieu of an actual list.
It’s kind of an awkward time for me to be obsessing over home decor. I have two months left on the lease of my flat and, so far, have made no plans to move anywhere else. Come 1st January, I’ll be safely ensconced in my childhood home again with my adult life packed up in boxes in the garage.
So this is why I decorate my home with proteas (my favourite flower and not only because they’re amazingly cheap and never die), peace-in-the-home in a glass jar and big spekboom which cost me R17.95. I am disproportionately proud of my spekboom.
I keep entering all these great competitions to win Kitchen Aid mixers and fancy stoves and this glorious bathtub, only mildly aware that should I win the stuff I would have nowhere to put it. I mean, there’s only so much stuff my parent’s garage can store.
I am craving my own space. I am craving adventure. I am craving stability and love and I am craving wild, impulsive chaos. I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I flip between House and Garden and Airbnb with impressive speed. My mind is everywhere.
I’m not looking for a new place because I want to, so badly, live in Sea Point. I can’t afford Sea Point. I can’t afford anywhere, alone, but the hassle of finding a roommate is just so off-putting. Especially when I have a bed I love, in a home that is mine . With my cat and my dogs and my parents all around.
Your mid-twenties are the most confusing age, I’m finding. It’s the most I’ve ever felt like an adult and I still feel like a child. It’s the bridge, between one life and another. My peers are getting married around me and I am both jealous and relieved that it’s not me. I have all these names floating around my head and I can’t decide if I can use it on a pet or if I should keep it for a future child.
When will that be, anyway? In five years or ten?
God, I really need to do something with my freedom. Work overseas. Live on a beach in Malaysia for six months, creating stories to tell my grandkids one day.
Are you allowed to live at home when you’re 25?