Space

I wanted to title this one My Space, but that sounded like a retro social app, so no.  But what I am falling in love with today is my space.

(On a random side note, let it be known that this is my 301st post.  I'm in the home stretch.  Wow.)

So my friends-who-also-paint were here again today, and the painting of Shabby Chic is 90% complete.  Today's job was the guest bathroom, and it received an upgrade I wasn't anticipating.  It now has wainscoting.  Looks like a cottage.  I love it.

I have always believed that one must love his/her space.  Whether it's a dorm room or a first apartment or a starter home or a dream-come-true mansion, if you don't love the space you're living in, you are doomed.  You work hard.  When the work day is over, you need to love the place you call home.

I am fortunate in that I have two homes.  (Well, sort of.  My daughter pays rent to live in one of them.)  When I visit my second home, I try to make it a space to love.  I call it Shabby Chic.  There is nothing . . . nothing . . . in that space worth anything at all.  Except to me.  Old furniture, repurposed and refinished.  Good will finds.  Pieces of furniture that my father built.  And walls painted by dear friends who share my vision.

Take a look:

Yes.  I love my space.  Here, I am content.  What more can one ask of this life?