My semi-irrational fear of furniture salesmen

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?

TTFN,

AMo