Aside from a few pieces of furniture that the dog has chewed on, I basically live in a bare house. The pictures have been knocked off the walls by flung toys. Lamps have been pulled by their cords across tables to crash onto the floor below. Curtains have been tugged until they've weakened and torn from the rod, with the rod then used as a piece of gymnastic equipment until one end is finally ripped out of the wall and left dangling. Forget the porcelain collectibles and delicate music boxes—they're long gone in shattered pieces. That which the twins haven't broken, they've killed. Rest in peace, plants and betta fish.
The only items my 4-year-old Tasmanian Devils haven't yet destroyed are my musical cats. I'm not sure why feline figurines originally appealed to me. I don't normally go for these kinds of decor items, but at the time they struck my funny bone. I picked them up on clearance for a couple bucks each.
CATS! Playing musical instruments!
The other day, I ran across some musical dogs. ON CLEARANCE. It was a sign. Unfortunately, there were only two and I couldn't form a trio. Oh, well. They make a funky duo, don't you think?
What? They're whimsical!
You can e-mail me any time for tips. Tasteful, classy interior decorating is my specialty.
Dinner last night: pork chops with stuffing and mushroom gravy
Exactly one year ago: