We are in the house hunting market. Not to purchase, that's not our lifestyle. We're serial renters. It just suits us. But, with that comes all of the quirks and peccadilloes associated with the landlords own sense of style. Especially, if the house belonged to the landlords' mother. The kids want to hang on to Momma as long as possible. Now, here we come along, years later, and find a darling house from the 1950's. It has the perfect amount of built-ins, a Norman Rockwellian kitchen and you can practically see Robert Young walking in the front door to shout, "Honey, I'm Home!" But, right off the bat, the minute you enter the home, it hits you. And, it hits you hard......blue carpet. Throughout the entire house.
Spence: Kate, you know what? I love this house. It has all of that Father Knows Best charm that goes with my vinyl record collection of Andy Williams, Julie London and Louis Prima albums. I don't mind trying to blend your furniture and my accouterments into this scheme. Sure, it's gaudy and a visual affront to the senses, but I could live just about anywhere.....and have. But, honestly Kate, I will defer to your sensibilities. Right after I hear from our readers.
Kate: I haaaaatttteeee the blue carpet. I loved the windows, hate the bathroom, love the kitchen and the neighborhood. Did I mention the God awful blue carpet? Oy! At least the drapes don't match the carpet.