"You see, in the Good Place," Michael's saying, behind her, "every person gets to live in a home that perfectly matches his or her true essence."
Karen's true essence, it appears, is open and airy and decorated in precisely selected shades of just-barely-not-white, walls and plush carpets and furniture, in that way that suggests the simplicity is not only deliberate but very expensive. It also features quite a lot of throw pillows. And knick-knacks.
The whole house appears to be more or less one room, with half-walls and screens and alcoves that hint at divisions without ever really interrupting its unity. There's potted plants scattered everywhere in it -- some on the floor, some on tables, some hanging from the ceiling. The sitting area has shelves of books; the kitchen has a waffle iron and an ice cream maker and a pasta machine and any number of less readily identifiable gadgets; there's a grand piano and a sewing machine and a crafting table.
Along one wall, stenciled in swirly gold calligraphy, is the Serenity Prayer:
me the SERENITY
I cannot change;
the things I can;
to know the