I attended three soccer games yesterday and then scrambled around getting the house ready for a big birthday sleepover with six 9 year old girls and cocktails for their mommies. I turn my back for one minute and somebody...
Forgive me for yelling the f-word in front of my 6 year old but...
I had been plotting for months and had nearly convinced my husband that we were passed the stage of having to worry about any sort of human excrement on our furniture. I could almost smell the spots on Claremont's Cambridge Guepard Noir.
I had been coveting this ever since seeing it in Elle Decor's spread on Aerin Lauder's Hampton's house.
Well, that's a wet dream now.
So, I threw the cushion in the washer and jetted outside to find my labradoodle chasing three lost deer across the yard.
I went back in the house and ran downstairs to put up some decorations for the party and found that somebody...
...had made a fort out of Peter Dunham's cushions, my cracked ice chairs and ikat pillows.
Torture.
What the hell. Let them eat cake. Labradoodle skirt and all.
