The Williams-Sonoma catalog sends me into an irrational rage.
That wasn’t always the case. I loved perusing the glossy pages laden with gorgeously set tables and photographs of food I could almost smell.
I would sit on a Sunday morning with a pile of catalogs, drinking coffee and earmarking pages featuring items I would never buy. Christmas was my favorite time, when each trip to the mailbox resulted in another armload of aspirations.
Now I can’t stand the sight of them.
This constant influx of perfection started to make me me feel … exhausted. It made me feel inadequate. It made the stains on my carpet and sofa stand out in stark relief.