Things I Love Thursday: Cozies and Bling are my Favorite Things
I tell ya what.
This week's mix is as random as the others. Perfectly fitting for the author of this nonsense blog.
Seriously, my mind is all over the place in general, but especially these days (These days = the days of 2020 where no one knows how to even answer a question like "How's it going?".)
Not exactly the pump up talk to get you hype about what follows, but let's do the thing.
Today's line up...
(If you like something you see, click the PINK LINKs below for more info.)
Our boys are in the midst of a room swap. Errrrbody changing rooms. It's like musical chairs, but with rooms, and when the music stopped, Charlie and Weston landed in a room at the same time, so now they're stuck.
The teens get their own spaces to systematically destroy.
Needless to say, my cameral roll is now full of screenshots of home decor that I probably can't afford and don't have the skillset to throw together.
A couple of days ago, I lucked out at Target (as one does) and scored this quilt for Jack's bed. It's the perfect weight without being too bulky or hot. Reversible. The perfect place for me to take a breather when my chores become unbearable.
This is what we called them growing up. Not slippers. I also said pocket book instead of purse.
Hose pipe = hose
wreck instead > accident
(wreck just sounds harsher and perhaps more dramatic like getting a police radio scanner to listen to incoming calls like my grandparents did.)
I've personally retired this one, but conditioner used to be cream rinse.
Neither here nor there.
We're still experiencing Summer temps here in South Carolina, but my increasing paleness is limiting the articles of warm weather attire that don't cause blindness to innocent passerby. Flip Flops, bye.
So I'm wearing my bedroom shoes. Pretty much in all the rooms, all day.
Several colors offered. Cheaper than UGGs. Good sturdy bottom for dog walking, mail gettin', palmetto bug squashing, and rainy day treks to the bonus room where our virtual learning takes place.
They'll probably smell like Fritos by the time the Spring rolls around, but by then we'll be 2020 survivors, and nothing else will matter.
(NOT LINKED. GO TO THE GROCERY STORE)
A couple of weeks ago, I went to one of those fancy running shoe stores (Palmetto Running Company, I Heart You) where I had a generous gift card to spend. My foot and gait were analyzed and the results were irrefutable.
I have high arches.
I have always been the type to grab a shoe from the shelf that looked good and fit well enough. No real aches or pains or anything to make note of. Didn't think there was an issue.
Until I put my foot in a high arch shoe that was made to carry me like a wannabe gazelle throughout the streets of Bluffton.
So while previous shoes were okay, form fitting high arch shoe is AMAZING.
I say this because maybe you need to up your apple game. Perhaps you're on autopilot with your apple selection or you just hit the repeat order button on your Instacart purchases. Stuck in the mediocre land of Gala or Ambrosia or maybe in the unique hell that is Red (so not) Delicious.
It's apple season, so go for the honeycrisp.
They're more expensive because they're more better.
I've shared these every year on gift guides and likely in between because I genuinely just like these happy not-so-little studs.
Pair well with bad days, good days, good outfits, stupid outfits, robes, formal wear, tee shirts, and bedroom shoes.
They just seem to say, "Hey, y'all. I tried."
We've been waking up a little stuffy and congested of late, so I thought it was time to switch the pillows. I'm still stuffy and congestion every morning, but these pillows are the JAAAAAAAMMMMM
Medium squishiness. Weight of a down pillow without actual animal feathers underneath your head (ew), and they're $20 for a two-pack.
Got them at Sam's Club on a whim, and it just worked out. Lucky Day.
Please transition this vacuum from Save for Later to Buy It Now. Do not delay. Put an end to this tortuous floor cleaning purgatory you've camped out in for so long. There are no trophies given to the ones who withheld on the good vacuum. No stickers next to your name at the pearly gates to signify how you stayed strong and lived a Dyson-less life. There's a decent chance we could even be judged for not getting one. Like the whole drowning person word picture where the victim declines a helicopter and boat rescue in exchange for God's deliverance in a more miraculous display. Only to drown and realize too late that God sent the helicopter and boat.
Applying this metric, the Dyson is the dern Coast Guard. Wave your hands, and accept the help.
I keep mine near the kitchen for obvious reasons, but I schlep this thing all over our house. Carpet, hard woods. No problem.
I almost had Weston pull the trigger on it to suck some errant Cheeto debris from my shirt the other day but remembered he's now in school a few days a week and could randomly pick that story to tell his teacher who has already judged me from my Zoom chic' bedroom shoes.
But I know it would have worked just fine.
Oh, and did I mention that the pink link above will shoot you on over to the cyber Walmarts where it's $150 off?!?
Legit love 'em all!
Happy Thursday, Y'all!
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