Those floors.

Those floors.

thoseFloors

I’ve heard that people like carpet in America. Are you kidding me? Carpet will soak up anything. And hide it forever. That all-night rager you threw back in 1995? Get out the black light, because that evening is still there in all of its bad-decision glory. Stick to wood. It’s honest.

Back when Pepito and I were shopping around for châteaus, I had a few requirements. Orange groves and at least ten bathrooms. Door knockers. Moss growing on the toilets, because what fun is brand new château? Only Kimye wants a new château and that duo represents everything that is wrong with America in one unfortunate word.

The other requirement was 200-year old wooden floors. Long, lovely planks of weathered perfection. But I’ve walked in a straight line for too many years of my life, so I cracked open the wine and asked Pepito to get creative. I wanted something with ATTITUDE. He brooded through most of it, but I must say, my Spanish stallion came through on this one. The lady of the manor is a happy girl.

xxx, mes fleurs.

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