The wrong couch.

We are finally replacing the very sad, very old couch.
I've loved this couch.
It's been perfect.
Not always pretty, but it has been around for a lot of stuff. 
2 new babies. 
Many pets.
My teenage years, my early adulthood. 
Roommates.
Quite a few moves.

But, it's time to move on.

Or it would be.

They delivered the wrong couch...or the right couch, but the very wrong color.

Oh, it would be fun to have a foxy rust red.
Probably.  It could be so sleek and stylish in a white and cream room with robin's egg pillows.
A thick super-shaggy gold-ish rug on the floor.
Some very sleek and edgy metal and glass coffee table.
Just a few sleek accents scattered around--pretty, sculptural vases and big flat bowls filled with pine cones.
And no clutter.
And no kids.
And no pets.

It would be beautiful, but it's not my life.
My life is for medium browns that hide sticky stains and Scotchguard.  My life is cluttered tabletops and wilting plants.  But I'm fine with that. 
And step by step, the babies grow up.  It won't be that long before I won't even really have to be "fine" with it anymore.  They'll be old enough that we can have things out that are purely decorative and we won't need to keep everything up out of reach.

And by the time that happens, maybe I'll be ready for it.
Maybe I'll be a bit better at this.  I get better about it, slowly.  I get better at cleaning things up and keeping them that way...slowly.  I'll have to work on Curt some more, maybe, but some day...some day maybe I can have a room that's pretty and comfortable and functional all at once.  And clean.
I'd enjoy that.