Oh my GOD, this project was supposed to take a weekend. As in 48-hours. As in the same amount of time it takes me to go to the grocery store, shower, exfoliate, pluck and squeeze juice from forty oranges, blow dry, whip up duck l’orange for dinner, do twelve loads of laundry and read Proust to my kids. Twice.
I have a husband that has never used a sander and makes completely rash decisions, and love, you’re on the right track. It looks wonderful. That was a complete lie, and give me my GODDAMN staircase back.
I am truly in love with this staircase. The newel post is a dream to stroke. Unfortunately it’s not as enchanting covered in Pepito’s blood. At the top of that helix is the smoking room, and of COURSE I have a smoking room so stop judging. I’ve slid down the thing and let me tell you, it’s fast. Forget Disney World and come to my château.
Off to a pain au chocolate party with the little ones. There won’t be a smudge, loves.