Can I get a whoo-whoo? After enduring multiple store trips, many hours on the Internet, one pretty woman experience (are you sure you, lady in the flip flops, can afford our very overrated, expensive furniture), questionable sales pitches, and three bored, misbehaved children, we finally bought a sectional.
I think this was week four of the couch hunt, just about the time when my husband gets so fed up shopping with me, that he would rather stay home alone, with the kids, than walk into one more furniture store with them (or me) in tow.
It is the point when I become the sole decider, and he is merely happy that his indecisive wife has made a decision. It doesn’t matter that he offered no number one choice, save the very expensive leather sofa that was permanently in recline position, complete with rolled headrest, the blame for the lack of sofa rested solely on my shoulders.
We’ve been down this road before, the first time when we were registering for china for our wedding. It was the biggest decision I had to make at the time (ah, memories), and it was monumental. This was the china that I was going to eat every special occasion meal on, for the rest of my life! Gold, platinum, plain, fancy, white, off-white, Lennox, Waterford…decisions, decisions.
For my husband, it wasn’t quite so complicated. Within ten minutes of our first trip to Macy’s, he declared, “I like this one.” He had seen enough.
Yea, I don’t think so. I can’t decide until I’ve seen ALL my options (thank goodness the Internet wasn’t as ubiquitous as it is now).
I think it was on our fourth visit to Macy’s, in another town, no less, because I was sure it offered more inventory on display than our little hometown Macy’s, that he gave up. I still couldn’t make a decision. By that time, he no longer cared. I call it the wear him down technique. Wear my husband down enough, and I get carte blanche in the decision making, which on the surface may seem wonderful. But, it’s not, because what I’m looking for is input in the form of agreement, not in the form of, I don’t care, whatever you want. What fun is that?
Every decision that I have wavered on comes to the I don’t care point, paint choices, furniture, second son’s name (what’s with the hospital pushing you to name your kid), and now, couches. Except this time, I wasn’t having it.
There I stood, for the second time, in Crate and Barrel, torn between two very fluffy couches and a salesman that started to get weirdly aggressive on me. My bullshit radar went on high alert. All of a sudden, I felt like he was subtly pushing me towards the more expensive sofa. He had lost all street cred with me. I was on my own.
I told him I needed some time to sit. And sit I did. But still, I could not decide. So, I called my husband, who was not happy with my request that he come down and sit, too. But, I insisted. This time, I didn’t want all the responsibility. You see, something did not seem quite right about our first choice (the more expensive Axis sectional), which we had both sat on the day before. The cushions seemed too pillow like, like I might never stop sinking in them. I suspected that I would be sitting on the frame, in about a month.
So, he relented and came down. And for once, we agreed, both with the fact that our second choice was more comfortable, and, that the creepy sales guy was trying to push us towards the more expensive choice. I’m so glad I called.
So, two pieces down, much more to go. I’ve let go of any idea that this room is going to maintain some formality and given into a midcentury modern vibe, which, surprisingly I am digging right now. I think I’m buying furniture for the house that I had been eyeing, had we sold our house last year. A girl can dream.
And by the way, ten years later, and we have yet, to eat on that china (and I think I should have went for gold), so much for my big decision.
I’m breaking out that china tonight, gosh darnit!