Sometimes I think that if I hadn't had kids or gotten married, I would have gone to school to become an interior decorator (do they even call it that anymore? Interior design artist or something nowadays, isn't it? I don't actually care....). Not that I would RATHER be doing that. It sounds like too much school time for what it actually is, and based on my previous school experience, just...no.
But I'm constantly redecorating in my head. My house, my mom's house (I so wish I could convince her to knock out a certain wall and make it a big archway or half-wall with columns...but will she listen? Noooo...she's all "Chill, Cristen, this is not your house...." Pssh. Whatevs.).
Right now, for instance, I'm staring at my kitchen (well, I'm typing, but my eyes keep wandering back to the kitchen) and I kinda really want to bust it up and make it better. Rearrange appliances and counters, get rid of WHITE ENAMEL PAINT, fix several cupboard doors so that they will actually stay shut once more, make a backsplash out of pennies and purple glass tiles...
Yeah, I'm just torturing myself here.