The Wrong Couch

I talked to Charlotte last night.  She sounded very happy which, of course, makes me happy.  She is couch-shopping.  A very difficult task. I never bought a couch. I still have my Grandmother's Victorian...not exactly love seat...but a couch you definitely don't love sitting on.  I pretend it's because I am so in love with Victorian furniture but really it's a deep-seated (forgive the expression) fear of buying the WRONG COUCH.  Because after you select it, pay for it, have it delivered (or God forbid) load it up yourself there it is sitting in your living room taking up all the space and it hits you:  This purple paisley faux-velvet sectional is THE WRONG COUCH.  It's like getting the wrong face lift.   What are you going to do about it? It's done. It's over. It's looks awful. And everyone is going to see you made the wrong decision.  And now my daughter is bravely going forth from one discount furniture store to another looking for THE RIGHT COUCH. Charlotte, Queen of the removable cushions!