Richard: I know what you're thinking. It's the same thing I'm thinking, the same thing everyone thinks the moment they lay eyes on this photo:
"The fuck is up with that thermostat?"
Clearly, this house was decorated in the early 2000s with the help of Paige Davis, who, like the rest of America, tended to paint everything mustard at the time. I have a hunch that the trend stems from the country's obsession with yellowcake uranium rumored to be in Iraq, but it's only a hunch.
Davis arranged to have a young, heavily muscled, frequently shirtless carpenter build and stain (but weirdly, not seal) some custom cabinetry for the living room, but the cabinetmaker was lured away from his job by the promise of boy band stardom, leaving Paige's assistant, Edna Ann, to finish the job. Alas, Edna Ann was legally blind and failed to notice the thermostat on the wall, and Paige had 15 seconds to relocate it before the homeowner walked in the door to feign surprise and delight. To this day, the thermostat doesn't actually work, since Paige just hot glued the box to the cabinet. No one has noticed.
And just so we're clear: there's no excuse for microfiber sectionals. EVER.
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