Prizes for anyone who anticipates the punchline . . .

So here's the deal.  I can no longer decorate my house properly. 

(PS my kids now routinely say things like properly and straightaway and rubbish bin and rather good and I find it rather delightful)

And the reason why I can no longer decorate my house properly is not so much based on the fact that I am not currently allowed to change things like, oh, the wallpaper, the furniture, the curtains, etc.  It's that my tastes appear to be diverging wildly.  I know everyone's tastes tend to change over their lives, for instance mine went something like this:  Jr. High--Pink and Green and dried roses and disturbing posters of little kids wearing grown-up clothes.  High School--High Victorian.  College--Seaside cottage.  Early parent--whatever other people will give us free. 

But herein lies the rub.  I currently run to basic, comfy, unobtrusively contemporary furniture.  No fluff, no frills, the occasional loud floral (my orange chairs anyone?) but nothing even remotely Victoriany.  Unfortunately, my tastes in art have remained pretty much static since my High School/early college days.  Waterhouse, Holman Hunt, Rosetti, that crew. 

And these two styles do not blend particularly well.  Or, in fact, at all.  Which gives me two options.  Change my taste in either furniture or art . . . or embrace the weirdness that has these two items juxtaposed.

And so I choose to christen my new decorating style . . . wait for it . . .

PreRaphaelIkea.

Ha.  HA!  Get it?  Wooo!  I kill me.

sigh.

Nerd.