I was on Ikea.com today, dreaming of how I will furnish my apartment when I move to Boston. I fell in love with the bed you see above. Truth be told, I don't even know if I like the bed that much. I'm probably more into the style of the bed below; that one looks like the bed of a modern woman.
But that's the secret: I don't want to be a modern woman. I want to be a princess. I want to be six-years-old. I like the thought of froofy billowing fabric draped from the top of the four-poster. When I was in the midst of going back and forth between the two beds, my dad came to tell me that my cat, Sprout (whom you see below), had jumped on the roof. He said she had barely made it up in the first place: jumped from the porch railing, caught the corner of the rain gutter and had to claw the rest of way with her front paws. When i came out she was looking over the edge, terrified. My dad got a ladder and I climbed it, tugged her off. I thought she would claw my face off, but she just clung tight to my shoulder. The pads of her paws were cold. She let me carry her around the house for awhile. I told her she was brave.