So, when hubby moved back in with me about a month ago, we agreed that it was time to spruce up the joint a bit. Our place is small and growing smaller as the kids get larger. The first thing on the chopping block was our HUGE dining room table. Hubby picked the table out about 8 years ago when we lived in a much bigger house. The table fit there. It looked great there. In our new place? Not so much. Oh, it still looked good, you just had to shimmy your body around it in order to get past it. It was big. The monstrous thing was sold and a smaller antique table took it’s place.
Feeling cocky about our lucky deal, we said, let’s sell the couches too. These couches we paid a ton for many moons ago, but had worn out their welcome. We wanted something smaller. Something fresh.
Couches, however, are not as cheap as we would have liked and not widely available in our neck of the woods. (shocker)
So online we went. We found what we thought would be a perfect fit for out room and our budget. The only problem? We had to wait for it to be delivered. For weeks we sat in the most uncomfortable chairs on the planet awaiting our new couch.
When if finally came, we were a tad shocked to see it arrive in a box. A box that looked much too small to hold a couch. My husband I looked at each other and said “Assembly required?”
Indeed it did need to be assembled. Oy. After putting the thing together, we sat down on it, ready to sink into it’s softness.
…. Maybe it just needs to be broken into…
I blame it on the Universe not wanting me to become a couch potato and to finish the next two books I’m working on. Yeah, let’s go with that.