My stairs are pretty cool. People like the risers, as they are colorful, broken tile mosaics. I did not create these mosaics myself. I can’t even cut paper. I can, however, come up with lots of ideas. Read on for a few variations on this effect for those of you who would like to jazz up an area of your home.

Downton Abbey is all pretty and precious. And we love it. Still, there are times when a homebody needs to Smash through the prim Victoriana to indulge in the steamy sensuality that was Marilyn Monroe.

The old standard of updating your walls is to hit the paint store for an endless amount of paint chips, torment yourself over exactly which shade and sheen of red you like best, then slap on that much debated new paint color and call it good. I would just like to propose a few additional options that don’t seem to get as much mileage as the good old paint can.

Decorating with Disney? Sounds like a home invasion of Mickey Mouse lamps, Goofy tables and princess pink something or the others. I’ve got nothing against adorable animation,  but buying Disney décor for a home in which no small children reside strikes me as sad and, possibly, creepy.

Why is it so hard to find a good light fixture? When I’m on the hunt for something cool to illuminate my space, I see a lot of lights that are what a friend used to call the “golden boob” light.

Everyone needs a little fantasy in life. Mine is looking at impossible homes, the sorts of structures that look as if someone decided to materialize one of those architectural dreams from Inception.

The TV was tuned to New Girl.  It’s a sweet comedy with an easy formula. Three good guy friends and one loopy but irresistibly adorable girl share a cool, warehouse-like apartment. Laughter ensues. That is, until the jokes hit too close to home.

When it comes to home-repair projects or tackling a weekend “honey-do” list, most homeowners fall into one of four distinct personality types. Which type are you?

When I arrived, I found dirty dishes piled in a precarious heap in the sink. This wasn’t just a few cereal bowls left to soak before a busy day at the office. Evidence of many meals consumed lay buried in the strata of plates, glasses and cutlery.

I once was a fearless decorator. In high school, I painted a friend’s bedroom walls with an elaborate mural of strange creatures and visual inside jokes that only two teenage girls slightly obsessed with David Bowie in his Ziggy Stardust days could find even remotely appealing.