So back in the day, when I was living at home with my beautiful mother, we shared so many things in common, espcially when it came to the teley. I remember rainy afternoons watching AMC (back when it was actually classics and commercial free) while snuggling in bed, or both of us dying for the next episode of Sex and the City or Gilmore Girls. There was very little that I wanted to watch that she didn't, and vice versa. Except for HGTV.
I never got the appeal. I would try. I mean, obviously we had so much in common that I must like this stuff somewhere deep down. But no matter how many shows I watched (except for Trading Spaces, the only one that ever had me hooked) I found myself uninterested. I didn't really care what these houses and gardens looked like before or after. I didn't need an ingenius new way to store laundry or hide my printer. I didn't have enough books to need to change the way they were organized.
But the strangest thing has come over me.
For the first time, last night, I actually wanted to watch HGTV. I wanted ideas and inspiration. I wanted to know what else was out there.
I watched an episode of House Hunters where a married couple were looking for a million dollar home in Vegas (which is ridiculously far from where we are both in terms of money and locale), but thought, ooh, how cool, the guy is the executive Chef at The Venetian, and his name is Olivier. It's like it's us! (roll your eyes here...)
And even though I didn't watch any episode all the way through, I still enjoyed it in a way I never have before. I find myself wanting to read decor blogs (my current favorite: Decorno. Funny and awesome, and generally a great time).
I knew it was in me somewhere. I just needed to have* a house to find it for myself.
(*Of course by "have," I mean imagine having...but close enough...)