My best friend did a fly-by visit last night -- she picked up her eldest from college for Thanksgiving, and stayed over since he's in school up here. It was short, but lovely (minus my alarm being on 10% volume and sleeping until 7:00 am, which is WAY LATE).
Bryce cooked a delicious dinner for us and we had gluten free carrot cake for dessert. We ate it in the living room, and Bryce apologized profusely for the state of our couches. "They're so old and gross, it's like we have old man couches! So embarrassing!"
They're a bit saggy and one is just hemorrhaging feathers from every cushiony surface, but they're not actually that old.
My best friend asked, "when did you get them?" and Bryce said, "I'm not sure, a while ago?" and I said, "2017."
Bryce is always freaked out by my creepy memory, and he was like HOW do you KNOW that?
Well.
I know that because we bought the white/oatmeal/ecru couches in 2017, as part of our "things we can have because we'll never have children" campaign. 2017 was when our parenting dream officially ended. And so 2017 is when we bought couches that would have been highly ill-advised with small humans.
They just looked at me and were like, "Oh. That makes sense."
Yeah. Sometimes my creepy memory can make me sad. But also, that was less than 9 years ago, really the couches should hold up better than that!
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