The husband and I went furniture shopping over the weekend. Our living room couch is . . . hmmm . . . how to put this so we don't sound like vagrants? It's fucked. It sags almost to the floor and there's no way to fix it that wouldn't equal the cost of a new sofa.
So off we went.
I will spend lavishly and sometimes foolishly on things for the husband and the girl. I'm getting better about purchasing things that I need for myself. A sticking point remains - I have the worst time buying furniture. It should NOT cost that much money to purchase something that I'm not going to have sex with. Or something. You know what I mean.
We had a pretty good idea in mind of what we were looking for [a smallish couch and possibly a loveseat] and an idea of what we'd spend [Me: as close to $0 as I could get; the husband: just buy the goddamn thing, we can't get up off the couch anymore without doing squats]. We checked out some stores and, as I got over the sticker shock, we almost settled on a couple of pieces [and a new ottoman storage thing! and a chair! Because why not spend money like we're printing it in the basement? NOTE: IRS and the girl's school, we are NOT printing money in our basement.], when I had SPENDING PANIC and decided we needed to check one more store.
The husband shrugged and muttered something about "goddamn lawyers and their due diligence" and we drove over to the other super-fancy store.
We walked through the fancy store's double doors with their "PLEASE CLOSE DOORS" signs posted on them and made our way into what looked like every piece of French Provincial furniture remaining in this country. Our circuit through the store took us past a lot of overly done furniture groupings, and any number of salespeople, none of whom greeted us. Evidently they have monitors in the parking lot and our 2007 automobile broadcast that we weren't worthy of their notice.
We made our way back toward the entrance, and while there wasn't anything there that I would have purchased, I was pissed that these fuckers didn't think I was worth even a fake smile. As we walked out, I said to the husband, "You know what I want to do? Keep this door open." He didn't even say anything in response, just pushed the door until it stuck open and we got into our car and went back to buy the furniture we had selected.
This, I think, is why we're still married.