I plonk myself down on the sofa.
“Nope, not squishy enough”
I plonk myself down on another sofa.
“Ugh, too firm”
I don’t plonk myself down on that sofa.
“What a horrid shade of puce, looks like a Ribena berry has puked all over it”
I plonk myself down on another sofa.
“Ohh this is nice but the padding on the arms is rubbish”
I don’t plonk myself down on another sofa.
“Who the hell would have that in their living room?!”
I don’t plonk myself down on another sofa.
“Or that, has it come from the set of the Sweeney or something?”
I don’t plonk myself down on another sofa.
“Seriously, who designed these? Blind giraffes?”
…
Several hours and many shops later.
…
I plonk myself down on another sofa.
“Ohh, this is just right!”
I sit for a while, luxuriating in the perfect harmony of style, comfort and texture. I run my hands over the smooth leather, let my head rest on the cushions and imagine myself at home, cold beer in one hand, a favourite movie on the TV. Oh yes, I think. This will do just fine.
I look at the price*.
…
I get up and plonk myself down on another sofa.
Never mind. You wouldn’t want anything made of “Prescott Buckskin”, would you?
What are you up to- auditioning for Goldielocks?
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