9 months ago, my husband and I flew to Georgia to perform our 3-day marathon house hunt. Because we were moving from Ohio, we had very little time to look and even LESS time to make a decision. We selected our house out of the billions we saw because we fell in love with the neighborhood. The NEIGHBORHOOD- not the house. It’s not that I don’t like our house; I just don’t particularly know how to furnish it. Our previous house was about 1500 sq. ft. smaller than this one, so we have quite a few empty rooms. My kids call them the “dance floor rooms”. About a month ago, I was about to give up, hang disco balls on the ceilings, and start an underground rave.
Why would I give up, you ask? Well, it’s simple. The minute I walk into a furniture store, a wave of anxiety washes over me. I know THEY are near.
I am afraid of furniture salesmen.
After walking past my plethora of empty rooms this morning, I decided I’d had enough. This fear of mine is irrational… right? Furniture salesmen aren’t really THAT scary… So I hopped in my car determined to buy what I WANTED, NOT what the salesman wanted me to buy.
As soon as I arrived, my palms got sweaty. I felt nervous, but it was time to go in.
I should have turned around then, but I pressed forward.
I'm now a proud owner of a teal and rose sectional. SURE I came in there for a dining room table, and yes I realize it doesn't match anything I own- but really, this sofa was the right purchase for me... my BFF salesperson said so.
Do disco balls go with teal?