I set my timer for three minutes. Here’s what I got down:
Right now, as I scrawl this down on paper, Jr. sits, sippy cup in hand, on our purple couch, watching Elmo’s World.
It’s 8yrs old, and has been along the wall in our home since it was delivered a week after we moved in. The whole set (couch, loveseat, chair) was a house-warming gift from my parents– we picked it out and sent them the bill.
We’d been married a year, had a purchased a car together, and signed on a mortgage together, but this was our joint first furniture purchase. We got it at L.S. Ayres, from a very swarmy salesman. He was hairy, wore many gold rings and had tattoos on all of his fingers. He sold us on the purple.
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That’s what I got down in 3 minutes. Seriously? Three minutes is a very short time to write about something you sit on every.single.day. Something that you’ve fed babies on. Something those babies have peed on, puked on, slept on and now jump on like it’s a trampoline. Something that’s anchored our open-floor plan townhouse for eight years. Something that’s going to be moving with us, whenever that happens…………..
Anyway, for the details as to why I’m writing about my couch, here’s the whole story at Adventures in Babywearing.
