I say to N8tr0n emphatically one night.
Because how else can one make a statement like that other than emphatically? And if you should be curious, yes, I am prone to making emphatic statements that I may or may not be able to back up as the months pass and there continues to be nowhere to sit in my living room.
Nevertheless, I reminded myself of my home resolve as we made a pilgrimage to the mega store of N8tr0n's ancestry. Or rather, the mega store where his family bought the meatballs for the New Year's smorgasbord that one year. Having learned my lesson from previous Ikea trips in which I was wooed by the cheap and okay things, I had a list. A very detailed list that I clung to and did not sway from. Miranda: 1, Ikea: 3. You know, from the times before.
But this post isn't even about our trip to Ikea! Rather, it is about how we accidentally found the couch of our dreams. And how it resides in West Jordan, Utah. And how it will probably never reside in my house. And how that's so sad, don't you think?
It all started with a trip to Gardener Village. I was meeting my friend Rachel there for some much needed catching up and frantic flapping/pointing "oh my gosh I love that chaise!" sort of stuff.
(And while we're on the subject of that kind of stuff, you know what must be annoying? Being N8tr0n when I am talking about decorating. Bless his heart but I am relentless. He actually answers most of my "what do you think of this dresser?," "how much do you hate this pattern?," "tell me your thoughts on sheepskin," could you please love this rug, for me?" queries that I throw at him while he is trying to get his Call of Duty on. This husband of mine, I think I'll keep him.)
N8tr0n spotted the couch of our dreams first and knowing I would love it, pointed it out to me. And the fact that N8tr0n actually liked the couch in the first place is big. As it turns out my taste in couches tends to be a bit dated for him. He can't seem to get images from That 70's Show out of his head when I'm showing him potential candidates no matter how adamant I am that it will not be paired with an orange saucer chair.
Anyway, about the dream couch.
I admired it the way one would admire Oprah's closet, knowing that it is beautiful, luxurious, and screaming your name but not gonna happen. I ran my hand over the fabric and imagined it making somebody else very happy. And if I hadn't gone back to that store for one more look—Oh but how I wish I hadn't gone back!—I wouldn't be whining to you about that damn couch right now. But then, what on Earth would I have posted about today?
The first mistake, as I mentioned previously, was returning to the couch to look at it just one more time. The second mistake was sitting on it for 15 minutes while we talked to a very nice employee who filled us in on the couch brand and how it had down in the cushions. She also mentioned that the style of the back is perfect for kids and pets and that the fabric could be cleaned with either soap and water or solvent. Usually it is one or the other! And suddenly I am an expert on couches when about an hour ago the only thing I knew was that futons are always a bad decision! The third mistake was me actually starting to consider buying the couch. I allowed myself to think that maybe the price wasn't so bad? Maybe we would just splurge on this one thing? And the store is having a sale?
Of course we left without the couch. Duh. And of course that didn't stop me from thinking about it constantly. Double duh. And now? Now nothing. I have no moral to this story. No great anecdote about how we left the store and decided to stop at a hidden thrift shop only to find an even better couch for ten dollars! Nope. Nothing like that. Just the fact that I still really want that couch and I've measured my living room and it would fit perfectly. Also, the gorgeous gray fabric that is reminiscent of a men's suit (not the white that is shown in the link because white couch = no thank you) would look amazing with the paint color I have picked out for the walls. Just stuff like that.
And here's the thing. There are approximately eleventy billion couches that would be just fine in our house for a fraction of the price. Even more that would be okay. We wouldn't even have to leave the state to find them! So that is probably what I should do? Find a couch that is fine, maybe even pretty good, and learn to love it? And possibly, quit making emphatic statements all of the freaking time?
So now I have something new to ponder which is this: Should I try to save money and pinch pennies and wait for years so that I can buy the couch that will bring me happiness? Or should I try to do something about the fact that I am deeply and profoundly shallow? Hmm...conundrum.
I can't provide you with an uplifting ending that inspires you and fills you with resolve of some type or another. Would you like to do it for me? Tell me that I should settle for something more affordable and focus on things that really matter. That I should never let go of my dreams! Tell me what you had for breakfast. What kinds of things you pine after that make you feel a bit shallow.