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My husband rolled his eyes and scoffed at the idea of me not being able to choose a fabric for the sofa he liked among a hundred and fifty choices so I decided to let him experience the joy of fabric selection first hand.

Since we needed to find a different brand of furniture, shopping began anew.

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Can you tell how thrilled he was?

He didn’t mind that couch, but vetoed the square arms.

The salesperson said it could be ordered in a rolled arm style….

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And we were off.

Standing in front of that brand’s wall of fabric, I started pulling patterns.

The following comments are his.

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Too swirly.

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Too wavy.

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Too blotchy.

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Too hippie dippie.

45 minutes later, he started wandering around and picked these.

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Too bad they belonged to a brand that didn’t sell a couch he liked.

The designer in residence took up our cause at that point and pulled this.

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The husband?

He said it looked like television static.

Almost an hour and a half in, he was done…. and pointed at this.

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“That one.

Get that one.”

I thought it an odd choice, but the salesman plugged it into the creation app and the husband was so sick of the process he approved.

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I argued that it would be too light a pattern for an ottoman not to mention our white walls and opted to take the swatch home.

The husband? He opted for a bar because the whole thing had driven him to drink.

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Cranberry gin fizz for me.

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Two beers and a disappointing French onion soup for him.

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My crab cakes with spicy remoulade were wonderful.

Fortified with lunch and alcohol… we kept shopping.

😉

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