A few years ago, I stood in the passage and realized I was sick of it. Not in a dramatic kind of way. More like when you resent something slowly. Like cheap coffee, or a shirt that never quite fits.It was claustrophobic, and there was this one bit where the paint peeled like old glue. Just a wall. But somehow it felt like it was part of the reason
That tap wasn't even completely busted. Just annoying. You had to turn it just so and then back a hair to the right to get non-freezing water. If you messed up the angle, it'd let out a weird sound. Not loud, but oddly high-pitched — like a kettle screaming. I put up with it for years. Blamed the plumbing. Blamed the building. Blamed everything e
It began with a shelf idea. Or maybe not even a shelf — more like the impulse of one. My husband said we needed “a better place for the keys,” and instead of adding a tray, I decided I'd create a solution. Wall-mounted. Minimalist. Elegant. Or whatever people call it when they're about to drill blindly.I marked the spot above the radiator, to