How Now Brown Couch?

What goes hand in hand with my obsession with the new house better than my obsession with decorating and furnishing it?

Nothing.  Not a damn thing.

I have been trying to be ultra low key about it in my real life, with family, friends and the people I interact with daily, because I'm sure if I really talked about furniture shopping, out loud, with real people, half as much as I'm tempted to, that sooner rather than later, some one would come along and bash my obnoxious head in. 

But you know what?  I can say it here, on my trusty old blog.  Ahem:

It's possible that I've never been more excited about anything in my entire life. 

Maybe getting married, but I feel like I have to say that.  Polite society dictates that I should pretend to be more excited about love and family than I am about shopping for a new sofa, like a grown ass woman, for the first time in my entire life.  I want to shout it from the rooftops - I'M GETTING A BRAND NEW SOFA!!!!

I will love it, and pet it, and call it George.  But not too much.  I can't risk pilling or stains.

Cue the confetti* and operatic arias from high on the mountain tops.  This shit is important.

In real life though, nobody wants to hear the ridiculous level of earnestness in my voice as I iron out the decision making process regarding a splurge on the suede toss pillows versus the more affordable twill.  They will probably want to smother me equally with either fabric selection.

Nobody wants to listen to me yammer on, bright-eyed and nearly combustible, about a rolled arm versus a track arm.  Who besides me would possibly give a shit?  Maybe MDH, but frankly I'm asking for his input as little as possible, lest he should voice a real opinion and cause me to not get my way.

In fact, in order to keep him quiet and continue shopping as if I lived alone, I have placated him with the promise of something very special indeed.  A reclining armchair**.  A leather one.  And if a leather reclining armchair is not enough to keep MDH out of my grill, this one is electronic.  Oohhh... magical.  Yes.  There are such things as electronic reclining armchairs designed to appeal to the laziest humans among us.  If you are so lazy that you can't even be bothered to maneuver a lever with your hand in order to lay down in your bedlike chair - this is the chair for YOU.  Bang.  Push a button and the chair will recline and come back up automatically.

*What are you kidding me?  Don't throw that confetti - who's going to clean that shit up?

**Style of said armchair was subject to my final approval.  I'm not having some ugly ass chair in my beautiful new house.

JBF Thursdays

Tomorrow is Friday. AKA "Jeans Day" at work. I actually overheard one of my coworkers saying in an excited, upbeat tone, "Thank goodness tomorrow is Jeans Day!" and another person agreed with them wholeheartedly. "Yes! Thank Goodness!"

Well, whoopidee doo.

I'm sorry. I'm afraid I forgot to drink the Kool-Aid on this one.

Am I supposed to get excited about this? When did wearing jeans become a humongous privilege? Or, conversely, when did wearing pants made from fabrics besides denim turn into some new kind of torture?

Many of my co-workers get all whipped up about wearing jeans. Although my boss explained on my first day of work that jeans were allowed on Fridays, on my first Friday I wore my normal dress trousers. People nearly fell out and every goddamn person I saw said "Didn't they tell you? You can wear JEANS on Friday."

I don't really have that many pairs of jeans, and frankly they aren't as comfortable as some of my other pants so I don't understand what all the fuss is about. I've tried to rationalize it and have come up with nil.

It's cool to wear jeans because:

- It's far more relaxing than the tuxedo/ball gown and tiara that are required in the corporate dress code.

- I don't already dress sloppy enough in my cargo pants and faded fleece mock turtlenecks.

- It's so confusing to have to decide which pair of wrinkled khaki's and hideously patterned polo shirt to wear on Monday thru Thursday.

- They are far more comfortable than the chain mail and burlap sacks that are part of my regular business casual wardrobe.

- Working my boring job has made me desperate to cling to any lame reason why I should keep coming back here every day instead of going completely kooky - so yes, yes, Jeans Day. Oh and Hurray! - left over sheet cake in the break room from Eileen's Retirement "party".

Management even give out "Free Jeans Day!" passes as rewards for work well done and people are excited to get them.

If I have done a good job I would rather not be rewarded with permission to wear my own pants.

Cash money does me just fine baby. A gift card works good too.

I'll save my excitement for when they come up with "Bathrobe Day", "Pajama Pants Day", or "JBF Hair Day".

*JBF = Just Been F&cked.