These fabric dresser drawers, for us, are perfect for their time and place. They are affordable, sleek and sturdy. Importantly, they aren’t too deep and fit into our bedroom nook.

We were lacking proper feet-kicking-up equipment, so we got this STOCKHOLM Ottoman from IKEA. t doubles as a seat. It also spins around.

We logged onto Etsy, searched “succulents,” and bought a whole damn boxful to be delivered second-day air from the Succulent Source.

We fancy ourselves gardeners. We have this running joke. We show people our thumb and ask what color is that? They say a normal color that would describe human skin. We retort: “That baby’s green. It’s a green thumb.” No, no. We don’t actually do that. It would be terrible and stupid. We are neither terrible nor stupid. We do enjoy growing plants. The toiling away picking weeds, laying mulch and watering is therapeutic. The eventual fruits—the hot peppers, the flowers, the literal fruits—fill us with a sense of accomplishment. Gardening is a gratifying hobby. But we have an obsessive streak. Outside by itself no longer satiates us. We’ve brought our garden inside with this Socker Plant Stand from IKEA. It holds 13 pots. Impatiens do well because they prefer shade.

We all have that friend. You drop by his place to grab a beer before heading to the ballgame. It’s a fine place. He’s got an obscenely large television and a new sectional sofa. But, something alarms you. It’s his walls. They are utterly, embarrassingly bare. “Just move in?” you ask. “No,” he responds. “Packing up to leave?” “No.” “Got a drug problem?” “Huh?” “Are you a psychopath?” “What?!” “There’s nothing on your damn walls. It’s very upsetting. It feels like a serial killer lives here. Or a vagabond. Has another human ever seen this place and returned?” When you were in college, a room with a bed sufficed. As an adult, you need a home. That home should have a feel. That feel should reflect your personality. If you have nothing on your walls, it screams: the guy living...