While JRB and I were gone to Asheville, our
precious demonic little pooches chewed our couch cushion. Yes, that’s right. Our love seat currently has exposed padding and shredded fabric. We found out while we were still on vacation, and honestly nothing could have ruined that trip for us. It was out of sight, out of mind. However, yesterday when I came home from work and began figuring out what all I could do to fix it, I began to slowly quickly heat up.
I couldn’t find any slip cover that I liked.
Reupholstering costs an arm and a leg.
New couches are actually the SAME AMOUNT as reupholstering.
But I don’t want to pay for new couches.
I want new floors.
Why are our floors so ugly?
And why haven’t I decorated for fall?
We have no pumpkins or mums.
And I still haven’t unpacked.
Our house is nasty.
And I don’t want to cook.
But I’ll take a cinnamon roll.
You see how this spiraled out of control? So at 7 when I finally got home from furniture stores, Publix (buying mums and pumpkins), and TJ Maxx (I was having a meltdown, ok?), I was in a mood that can only be illustrated by this. I was ticked off, tired, and ready to bite everyone’s heads off. Ever been there? Ever gotten there because of a pet? Maybe I have an anger problem.
I was ready to fix the problem. I had plans to arrange flowers, completely re-landscape my yard, buy new couches, and new floors. We, the newlyweds, can totally afford that, right? Thank the Lord for JRB (and bless his heart for putting up with me). He talked me off the ledge in the furniture store, fixed our dinner, and actually took me to get a cinnamon roll (later regretting that decision). But, still. He didn’t lose his cool while I was ranting and raving and plotting my revenge against the dogs.
Why am I sharing this? 1. I need ideas on how to fix my couch. and 2. More importantly, I want you to see that I’m real. I’m sinful. I get ridiculously angry and try to make bad decisions. I find myself not being grateful for what I have. I lose sight of what’s important. I skip reading my Bible so that I can roam town trying to spend money. And I kill joy.
Thank you, Lord, for grace and for people who care enough and love me enough to tell me when I’m being crazy, help me when I’m being ridiculous, and make wise decisions when I seem incapable of doing it myself.