Domestic Bliss
28 Feb
I love it when my house looks good. My problem is that I truly detest spending time to make it look good. Seriously, I would rather scrub my kitchen floor or practice writing “Ns” with Maya than spend time looking at coffee tables. If I’m being 100% honest, anything involving too much domesticity kind of freaks me out. This includes stepping foot in a Home Depot, looking at open houses (we live in a condo and Ali is trying to get me to move to a house), and hearing the words “it’s time to settle down.” I’m not sure what my problem is but despite the fact I’ve been married forever and have a child, I still don’t consider myself the “settling down” type. While others dream of the suburbs, white picket fences, a dog, and some apple pie, I am perfectly happy living in a condo in the middle of the city with lots of dust, pollution, and loud sirens to keep me company at night. Anything more domestic than my current existence sends me into a fit of claustrophobia.
Because of my dislike for home maintenance, even the simplest tasks often take me double the amount of time they should. Lately though, possibly spurred on by Ali’s purchase of a car after 10 months, I have been a tiny bit more motivated to get things done. I am proud to say that in the past week I’ve managed to have the long-awaited microwave installed, I’ve met with 2 different companies for window shade estimates (for a total of 5 hours of the most mind-numbing discussions ever), and yesterday Ali and I decided, spur of the moment, to purchase a much-needed sofa and love seat for our living room.
Our current sofa is in quite a terrible state. I knew something needed to be done but I finally realized the urgency of the situation when even Ali commented that it looked pretty terrible. And when Ali notices that something is in a state of disrepair it usually means that particular item needed to be replaced at least 6 months earlier.
This couch has been a thorn in my side since we bought it 8 years ago. I’ll spare you the details of my attempts to return this shabby sofa. I won’t tell you the tale of my trip to small claims court to sue the store I bought this from and I won’t bother to tell you about my lecture to the small claims judge that his “thinking was flawed” for giving me the option of a. keeping the crappy sofa or b. getting a refund of 1/3 of what I paid. But I will tell you that this sofa has seen it’s fair share of Maya’s barf, my dad’s tea spilling antics, chocolate stains caused by yours truly, and more than a few spills of Gatorade caused by someone else living in my house. I’m not pointing any fingers Ali.
Yesterday I decided enough was enough and at the suggestion of my mom Ali and I battled the rain and traffic and headed down to the lovely city of Fountain Valley and Bassett Furniture. The great thing about this particular store is that their furniture is manufactured in 30 days or less which means that instead of waiting 3 months for a custom order, we only have to wait a month. For people like us who need a couch yesterday, this is quite a selling feature. Bassett’s prices are also very reasonable, and since Ali and I were miraculously able to come to an agreement on something, we ordered a sofa on the spot.
This morning I am feeling rather shocked by our reckless behavior. Who knew that ordering a sofa could feel so liberating? In any case I am thrilled that I can cross yet another tedious task off my list. My only problem now is that as soon as the new sofa is delivered I need to find a new area rug to match. And maybe a new side table. And probably a lamp to go on it. This home stuff never seems to end and my pulse is racing from the anxiety of potentially spending yet another Saturday in search of furniture. With Ali.
I’m not sure if my health, or our marriage, can survive another weekend of domesticity.













