FotoFlat

I'll never get tired of the old awesome crap that makes up my apartment. Like this latch on the built-in in my bathroom. It's chipping paint and it's still more charming than a small child.

The sentimental value was high, but in the end, the beloved Marimekko prints didn't fit behind the TV anymore, and they didn't seem to go anywhere else, either. Well, except for Craigslist heaven, that is.

It's not like I didn't expect this. Oh, what? You have a green thumb? Well la ti frickin' da!

They're not *really* meant to be decory things, but where the hell else am I gonna put them?

Finally found a place for the blue boxes where they fit great, look good, and aren't wasting space (they're holding craft supplies and charging cables). F yeah.

And after I said I wouldn't, too.

My dad, to my total shock, understands crafty jewelry storage! (I am my father's daughter?)

How the frig that happened, I don't know. All I saw was that he made one of these for my stepmom with old barnwood and screen, so I demanded one. He made me one for Christmas and my heart grew three sizes.

My dilemma is officially solved. One day, I will have the perfect vintage Danish credenza, but until then, I will have my new glossy white Ikea credenza. I went this weekend specifically to check out this piece and wowwee wowa it looked so much better in person, so here we are. 

Please to meet one of the things that made me want this apartment big time. No, it doesn't work, but the button has been repurposed to buzz people in the front entrance. Yes, occasionally I do pretend to talk to Mabel to call on John Smith in Murray Hill.