Can We Talk? The Curious Down Side Of Hitting The Home Makeover Jackpot

Cool cats, unless you just happened to stop be here because you commandeered a Google search for hot dudes (okay, more than likely), you might have noticed that until the beginning of this week, I have been more or less AWOL for the past 10 days.

Yes, there is a reason. And it's not because I don't miss you... I've just been feeling a tad conflicted. Can we talk?

Much of it surrounds this blessed "Dear Genevieve" makeover that you've heard much about here (we think it's airing Saturday, March 5; stay tuned for updates; episode 410). Believe me, we were lucky beyond belief; who doesn't watch these shows and fantasize that they might one day be indulged by one of the name-brand designers, all the while getting off on the giddy experience of the experience being aired on TV?

All the same, as glorious and rare a gift as it was, the experience was so surreal that it threw me. Really. Our bedroom has felt off limits, as if it's too good to use.

I realize it sounds ridiculous, if not unappreciative—and that's not the case, truly. But imagine the centerpiece of your home being utterly unfamiliar. In an instant. Not like a renovation, where you see progress step by step and work with a contractor to practically commandeer every screw.

This was all accomplished over the dizzying spance of just over a week and, as anyone who watches these shows knows, a great deal of it was a mystery until—ta da—"the reveal"!That seems to be the downside of this makeover. Again, I ain't complaining, but, for whatever reason, I have been feeling alienated by my own bedroom. It smells different, the bed is new, the furnishings are still strange and unfamiliar... God knows it's beautiful, with some extraordinary features that I can't wait to showcase once the show airs (gag order until...). I've also saved up a blow-by-blow expose on the "Dear Genevieve" miracle... which I'll post as soon as the show airs, day by day, so you might live it in real time, too.

I hate to keep apologizing like a big pussy, and I want to make clear that, god knows, I have no regrets... the chaos and mayhem of the week were a blast, and Genevieve could not have been more fun (cameras off, the trademark laugh and smile linger on). This is just one of the odder transitions I've known.

I think of Hotel California: You can check out anytime you like but you can never leave! (insert wicked laugh)...

I'll be okay. Why, to have written this, I'm already over it.