That's not like home at all -- their carpet doesn't even have any stains in it

Day three of my "YES! Let's do home-improvement" mood has, so far, included a few minutes spent tagging do-it-yourself projects in a book, staring at the kitchen with paint swatches in my hand, one arm extended and one eye closed; and looking through magazines for inspiration (or to get that inevitable "I'll never be that cool" feeling).

My conclusion, and what may be the buzzkill for my "YES" mood: Never will I ever live in a house that ever, ever resembles one of those pictures in those magazines.

I don't have Granny Smith apples in a bowl on my coffee table. Instead, my table boasts one empty glass, one strategically placed (and tilted) Frank Lloyd Wright book and some junk mail from last week. And dust. We've got that kickin' too.

I don't have the ability to construct a bed frame, even if I did have the tools to do so and I had the directions taped to the wall in front of me.

I don't have the creative intuition to put THAT color (pointing to one magazine) with THAT one (other magazine) to come up with THAT (third magazine).

I'd like to see a home magazine that has pictures of Dave's shoes laying by the door in a photo spread, or maybe one that has some dirty dishes in the sink. I need to feel like that model room is attainable; I need some dust, some fingerprints on the windows and some mismatched pillows on the designer sofa.

Am I asking too much? I guess so. Sigh.