I had finally found “the couch”.
Our TV room couch, aka Parlor couch, is a slip-covered mess. When I got it in the 90’s back in Baltimore, it reeked of smoke and was covered in a blue gray 80’s fabric. The only thing different now is that we’ve gone through several slipcovers and the smoke has been replaced with farts.
But it’s gargantuan and fits all of us on it for a movie. And if you stuff a pillow behind you, your back won’t hurt as much.
But in the back of my mind, I’ve been cheating on the couch with new sloped armed two deep cushioned couches. I’ve pinned some more pricey ones on my secret Pinterest page and then I decided to go to the IKEA website. And lo and behold, there it was, the Farlov sofa. And for half the price.
I told my husband we were buying it, especially since this is also his office space and anything bought for this room is tax deductible. So heck yeah. I got ahold of the company credit card and I dove in to make the purchase. Couldn’t figure out my password. Who cares. Pushed through only to discover there is no delivery and the “drive to pick it up at store” option has got the stores in a state of befuddlement because they can’t keep everyone safe from “the Virus”.
So I guess we’ll be enjoying the Emperor’s New Couch. I’ll exclaim, “Oh how luxurious the fabric is” and “how cushy and comfy and spacious” our new luxury couch is. And everyone will exclaim “OOOhhh” and “Ahhhhhh” !!! And we’ll drop popcorn and spill wine on it because, after all, it is invisible. So who cares.
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