In the last 10 years of my life, I’ve moved (at least) once a year (this is the eighth apartment in NY). I hate moving. The mere sight of cardboard boxes makes me shudder. The sound of packing tape makes my skin crawl. So, why do I keep doing it? There is a variety of reasons, but one upside is that every time I move, it’s another chance to re-decorate. Granted this move was less than smooth sailing (couch got ripped, mirror got cracked, rug got a perm…), I am finally home. And who can complain about that?
Now, if you don’t mind, I’ll be over here sitting on my nonexistent couch.