I'm Addicted to...

My House — it’s small, charming, and actually mine. I own it. Me, and my husband. Whole adults with a REAL mortgage. But every time I open Pinterest, that little app tells me, “Sweetie, this place needs a kitchen makeover, a hallway gallery wall, and a reading nook with fairy lights and a $200 throw blanket.” Apparently, I can’t live in peace unless my spice jars are labeled with calligraphy and alphabetized like I’m running a Michelin star restaurant.

I go on Pinterest to relax. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. I’ll open the app for “just a minute” to look up a dinner idea, and the next thing I know, I’m 82 pins deep into a French cottagecore rabbit hole and planning a rustic outdoor dinner party… for 12 people. I don’t even know 12 people. If I invited that many people to my house, I’d need to borrow folding chairs and anxiety meds.

But Pinterest makes me feel like I’m a few pins away from completely transforming my life. I have boards for everything. “Dream Closet,” “My Future Garden,” “Cabin in the Woods with Bread,” and “DIYs I Will Never Do but Love to Lie About.” I pin things like I’m getting graded on creativity. Meanwhile, I haven’t put away my laundry in four days and my onion plant died again (RIP onion #5).

And the recipes. Don’t get me started on the recipes. I’ve pinned enough crockpot meals to survive the apocalypse, yet I still end up eating toast at 8 p.m. because I “wasn’t in the mood to cook” or " don't know how to". I once tried a Pinterest bread recipe and ended up with something that looked—and tasted—like a hockey puck. Still gave it five stars in my heart. Effort counts.

Pinterest is basically adult pretend play. It gives me the illusion that I’m living a soft, beautiful, candlelit life where I wear linen dresses and smile while folding laundry. Reality? I wear fuzzy socks with holes, forget the laundry in the washer for two days, and mutter bad words when I stub my toe on the coffee table I swore I’d replace six months ago.

So yes, I live in a small town where you can do your drinking and soul-cleansing all before noon. I live in a real house, with real messes, a dog that steals socks, and ducks that scream at me if breakfast is late. But in my heart—and on my boards—I live in a magical Pinterest land, with fresh bread, calm mornings, and 12 imaginary friends to impress with my tablescape.

Anyway, I think I'm addicted to Pinterest

Till next time,

Ana