So, there we were at the store looking for living room furniture for the condo, when…
*Looks right at you*
I hear the word “No.”
So, you have to imagine I did a double take. A triple take, and then I was checking my purse for a thermometer, because surely my husband did not countermand my design choose.
Yeah, this never happens. Not on account of me being the designer guru or anything. I tend to think it has to do with him not giving a rat’s butt about the décor.
As long as it’s functional, comfortable and something he can wear in. He likes to make his preferred seats his, you know?
So, where was I going with this? Well, I’ll tell you. I figured I’d give him the benefit of the doubt and see what happened. Here’s the conversation.
This is me, after I get over my shock and decide to roll with the upper-cut. “No? What, don’t you like the color? We can change that.” Not that I planned to, or anything, I just wanted to feel him out.
“I don’t know. I don’t like it.”
Kinda broad, but okay. We moved along, and I see another couch set. A small sectional. “What about this one?”
He affected a face and sighed. “No.”
When we made the rounds of the store and he’d literally said no to everything I pointed out, I threw up my hands in mock defeat. “We’re reached the end of the road, buddy. This is where we came in and you didn’t like anything.”
To which his eyes lit up when he said, “I liked a couple of things.”
There’s me. *Blink, blink*
Then I looked around at a loss. “Um…where?”
God love him. Seriously, I mean he walked to the left and slapped a hand down on a coffee table that was too big. Did I mention that we were looking for light beachy tones and this was almost black? No? Well, yes it was. Bless his little heart. He said, “I like this one.”
Then he marched past me going left. “I like this couch.”
*Leans in to whisper* It was a couch and half. It even had an XL on the sales tag. So, in terms of it fitting into our small condo? Yeah, no.
“I think this is a good design.” He walked to an end table that I thought was a bistro table of some kind, until I realized it was meant to go with humungous couch. Only it was in a teal color instead of a sand color.
“And I think these are interesting.”
I looked at the lamps he was pointing to and I didn’t know what to say. Speechless never happens to me, so I tried to find a positive here. One little—nope, couldn’t do it. “Are they supposed to be animals or is that a cactus?”
It was hard to tell. They were free-form something or other. Coulda been a giraffe or the cactus I mentioned. Hell, they could have been stylized brown waves that were supposed to be forever parked on one’s end table to remind a person, or possibly your guests, not to pollute the oceans.
Bottom line? They weren’t going to be parked in my house.
I tried my best to sugarcoat my displeasure. “I’m sure if we were doing a brown theme, or even a beige one – as those two shades go together, the lamps would work. But with beachy shades…?”
“Wet sand is brown.”
Yeah, and so is a wet blanket. I guess I was being one because, for the life of me, I just couldn’t get excited about the yellow couch that was the size of the condo, end tables that could double a bar-tops and lamps that looked better suited to go to a wood carver for his next project than to win prized positions on my end tables.
Meh, it wasn’t until we got back into the car without buying anything that it hit me. I never bring him furniture shopping with me. What the hell was I thinking?
Clearly, I hadn’t been…
Anyone else have a husband story?
As always, thanks for stopping by!