EastGirlsWest

Like many of us, I love reading feature articles about other people’s homes. The New York Times real estate section, Dwell, Domino, Elle Decor…this is my porn. And the photos! Oh, the photos! For years I would flip through the pages of these magazines, staring at the psychotic perfection of each residence, thinking “who ARE these people?”. Because really, if your house looks that good, and your life sounds that good, and you are actually plucked from among those who have it THAT GOOD to be profiled in a publication that other people pay money for in order to read about your sickly perfect existence…well, in that case, you have CLEARLY — at some point — sold your soul in exchange.

Then I got into a relationship with The Betrothed. And fell in love with his very intact soul. And eventually moved out of my thift-store chic, one-bedroom, third floor walk-up apartment and into his beautifully furnished, photogenic home.

Two days ago, said home was featured in SD Home, the local, quarterly glossy published by the Union Tribune. We are now those people.

(go here for an easier-to-read version of the article)

The day this magazine landed on my coffee table, I settled on the couch to read the piece and admire my home as it’s never looked before or since. Then I happened to glance up at the place where the ceiling meets the wall, and noticed it was moving. Teeming with a parade of ants, marching en masse from somewhere hidden in the ceiling to somewhere secret in the wall three feet away. So gross.

Now the truth is, we’ve been fighting the ants for weeks, and from what I hear from my friends and neighbors in San Diego, we’re not alone. Our main battleground is the master bathroom, but they seem intent on exploring the entire place. With all this experience, you think I’d be more skilled with the RAID can by now. But the ceiling is tricky. I sprayed the ants in transit above me, but their corpses started falling onto my head, along with a fine mist of insect killer. Even more gross.

So with dead insects in my hair and poison in my lungs, I again sat down to read about how great it is here.

As you know, I work in television. I am no stranger to the miracle of lighting, the tricks of the camera, the outrageous time that can be spent preparing a space to be photographed. But I have to say, it’s very different when it’s the place you inhabit every day. The place where a layer of crumbs coats the kitchen floor, a film of toothpaste covers the bathroom sink, and a pile of dirty laundry lives permanantly in the corner of the bedroom. Don’t get me wrong, I think this house is wonderful. I love living here and feel very lucky to do so. And while it’s never spotless and shining, it is relatively clean on a regular basis. But when I saw the photos it was if I was looking at the Bizarro World version of my home. And really, it would be even more fun to live in THAT version.

I love the article that Ann Jarmusch wrote. It’s an accurate relflection of how much care and hard work The Betrothed has put into making this house a comfortable and special home. And the photos! They are gorgeous. But in the interest of full disclosure, I feel there could have been a disclaimer at the end — one that said something like: Before these photos were taken, Hanson and The Betrothed cleaned until their fingers bled. Random crap was moved off of shelves and counters and hidden in closets. Flowers were purchased and put in vases that are never used. Furniture was moved. And when the photographer arrived, the windows were still not photo ready, and his assistant had to pull out the Windex and paper towels and clean them himself. (Hanson was mortified).