Title: My BF Can't Decorate. Etc.
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Blog Entry: I do forgive my boyfriend's lack of taste in the decorating department, to a certain extent. After all, he is a man, and since he's divorced, it's expected that his house is lacking a woman's touch. But my God. Can you PLEASE clean the limescale and the mildew out of your shower, or do you enjoy little colonies of germs growing in there? Who in the hell put up stickers of little blue beta-fish on the walls in his other bathroom? Are turquoise sea-shells really the best choice to stick in the bottom of the tub to keep from slipping -- was it beyond you or your ex wife to choose a neutral color? Why do you constantly allow your kitchen to suck?? Can't you get a dishwasher, color coordinate a few things, maybe go to Ikea and buy some matching pots and pans, and update your 15-year old cutlery? Can you think in color a little more? And what about his son's room that has gone untouched since the child and the mother moved out? The train set, the bedding, the puzzles and books and the dresser filled with random socks and expired children's Tylenol? And why, oh why, do you continue to live in this building that from the outside looks like it could be a college dorm? Granted, such buildings are a common sight in this country, but can you show just a little good taste? I can't imagine that this is not just where he wants me to live, but where he also expects us to raise our kid. And what am I supposed to do? Tell him I want him to move from the house he's lived in for ten years? I wouldn't have even had that right two months ago when I wasn't pregnant. I keep idealizing America right now. I want my child to have green grass and a lawn and a wooden house (NOT an apartment, like everyone has here), I want my child to speak English and to celebrate Halloween and Thanksgiving and the 4th of July, I want a child with that American sense of what is right and wrong, and not the Italian mentality of "bending the rules is the only way." I want my kid to have Kraft singles, to live in a country where everything is possible, where stores are open 24 hours and where no one says "I'm sorry, it's not possible," simply because they don't feel like working or are having a pissy day and don't want to do their jobs. I don't want my kid growing up in a dingy apartment in friggin Borgo Venezia in Verona, with stupid blue fish stickers on the wall and having a nursery that used to belong to some other kid. I know I'm just having a bad day, but I feel overwhelmed today. I want to go home.
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