Maybe tomorrow will be better
I am seriously not kidding when I say that I have absolutely nothing to write about.
If you think I’m kidding, then let me confess that I just wrote an entire post about the fact that I washed the slipcovers on my couch this week.
In fact, the following is the post I just wrote and then, as I proofread it, caused me to fall into a deep sleep. I feel the need to include it as proof that I’m not exaggerating about how little I have to say.
Six years ago, I ordered a couch.
I had just been through the worst summer of my life, which involved a terrible miscarriage that had chewed me up and left me with a footlocker full of emotional issues and somehow I decided that a new couch would make things better.
Interestingly enough, the couch didn’t really help matters.
However, in the midst of all my hormonal weeping over fabric choices, I did have the presence of mind to order a couch with removable slipcovers because it seemed like a brilliant, practical choice in light of all the babies I was sure we were going to eventually have that would spit up all over it.
Yes the couch was expensive, but practicality doesn’t always come cheap. And I sold P on it by declaring that we’d have this couch until our kids took it off to college with them because we’d be able to wash all the slipcovers on a regular basis and keep it looking flawless.
So, on Monday, I washed the slipcovers for the first time.
In six years.
The problem was that somewhere along the way I became frightened of washing the slipcovers. What if they shrank? What if they dissolved? What if they were ruined forever?
But after a six year accumulation of baby spit up, Nilla Wafer crumbs and sticky, dirty Cheeto fingers, I decided it was time to face my fears.
I washed. I dried. I have a spotless couch with incredibly clean cushions.
Honestly, I will count it as one of the great highlights of my life. Or at least my week.
By the way, I was going to title that post “The Couch”.
Sometimes my life makes me sad.
***Edited to add that I’m not really sad. I mean, yes, I’m sad that my wordsmithing abilities have taken leave and all I could think to write about was my couch, but not sad in the traditional sense. I just didn’t want y’all feeling bad for me because it’s not like the heel broke off my favorite pair of shoes or anything tragic like that.
Subscribe for the latest news from Melanie
