Today my dad, my mom, Charlotte, and I drove the hour+ drive it takes for us to get to the nearest Ikea, where I clutched my Christmas money in my hot little hands and agonized over purchases to flesh out our children's rooms. Yes, I realize that my twins are almost 2 years old. Yes, I realize that we have lived in our home for nearly a year. Yes, yes, yes! I know! Hey, this is what happens when you have lots of kids in not-lots of time. This is also what happens when you decide to stay at home instead of working full time, meaning your educator husband is the sole breadwinner for the family--there's not a lot of extra money for things like, oh, paint. And light fixtures. And funky textiles.
So I take home purchases seriously, folks. Very seriously, as in wander-through-Ikea-for-hours-until-my-head-hurts-and-my-baby-wails-from-boredom seriously.
And you know what? The two purchases I was the most excited about, two slipcovers to transform our worse-than-ugly (but free! They came with the house) armchairs into genuinely beautiful club chairs, didn't even fit. So I'm back to square one with two orange and green striped 70's-era armchairs that embarrass me so much that I feel I have to apologize for their existence to anyone who happens to wander into my home.
(I am so, so sorry about those armchairs. Really, I'm sorry. I'm hoping they spontaneously combust soon... that is, combust without damaging any other element of my home or family while still completely disintegrating into a pile of sorry ashes. You don't have to sit on them if you're nervous.)
I sincerely hope my other exciting purchases, such as new light fixtures for the kids' rooms, work out, or else I might have to riot. Because I now have to travel back up to Ikea, return the slipcovers, and fight the overwhelming forces that are The Powers of Ikea, lest I'm tempted to make any other hopeless purchases.
I'll get the pastor to lay hands on me and anoint me with oil before I go.
3 comments:
You could do what my grandparents do to their armchair: cover it with a white sheet. It looks so retarded, but hey, you can't see underneath it. (Actually the only reason my grandma put it there is so my grandpa won't get crumbs on the chair. It matches exactly to the couch.)
Just a thought... :D
Any chance you could modify the slipcovers to fit? That's so sad they didn't work out!
No, there is no hope for these particular slipcovers. The chairs are a funky club chair design, with wider-than-average backs and strange t-shaped cushions, and the slipcovers didn't stand a chance. Believe me, my dad and I nearly split the seams trying to make them work. I'm afraid we're going to have to go custom, folks. Those $30 slipcovers were wishful fantasies.
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