Tag Archives: adult

I Went Furniture Shopping. And Lived.

I’ve been stepping out of my comfort zone lately.   For example, I’ve been wearing a bathing suit 4 hours a week by choice and not because my kids want to go play at the pool.  (The trick to this for me, being uncomfortable in a swimming suit, is believing that if I don’t look at anyone, they can’t see me.  I learned this from my four year old.)

And once again, on Saturday, I stepped out of my comfort zone and went… drum roll…  furniture shopping.  Oh the horror.

Now I’ve bought furniture before.  Right now, I’m sitting on a chair I actually own.  But I’ve been buying furniture at IKEA and Shopko.  It’s been dying lately so I thought I’d try a furniture store with the words “Furniture Store” in the title and where you can’t also get a lovely Swedish lunch or oil change.

My friend Lynette told me exactly what I needed.  She told me the size and the color.  I had color samples and a drawing in my hand.  It was as dumbed down as one could make it. I think I needed it one more level down.

Furniture is so permanent.  I took a friend with me and had a friend on speed dial.  Both of them tried to convince me that furniture is not permanent and I could handle the challenge and throw pillows will change my life.  I’m pretty sure Andrea wanted to slap me the 15th time I asked her if she liked the combination.  She kept grabbing the backs of chairs and her knuckles would get white as she told me once again Expresso is a sofa color and not what the sofa smells like.  (There are no scratch and sniff sofas by the way. But with leather names like Expresso and Carmel and Mocha, I’m thinking there should be.)

But I did it.  I bought furniture, like an adult.  And the furniture will come PRE-MADE, not in a flat box with assembly instructions.

I didn’t know they made it like that.

I bought this.  And it will actually come like this.  It won't come with an Allen Wrench.  I'll admit: I'm a litle skeptical

I bought this. And it will actually come like this. It won't come with an Allen Wrench. I'll admit: I'm a little skeptical

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