Love[seat]sick

This weekend I went to Austin with Richard so he could get more work done on his tattoo. Since dating Richard, whose "half-sleeve" is still a work in progress, I have learned that there are two distinct variations of tattoo pain: 1. the "feels like a cat is scratching you, HARD" fleshy pain, and 2. the elbow/ ankle/joint "bone rattling" pain. This weekend he experienced both, and I experienced neither.

In case anyone's concerned that I missed out on an opportunity to do something drastic, I did hit an important "adult" landmark: that of Purchasing Furniture Of Value (Not From IKEA). I'd love to say I was an excellent barterer, but anyone who knows me could have predicted that there was no way I'd leave the city without the fire-engine-red leather loveseat and matching chair and ottoman. (This is the closest approximation google images could come up with--but mine has cleaner lines and less puffiness. I hate puffy couches.)

I followed the important bargain-hunters advice of "don't worry how you're going to get it home" and we shoved half my purchase (chair and ottoman) in Richard's SUV. The couch is waiting until January 15, when I'll be in Austin again for work and we'll pick it up on the return trip.

"What's the big deal?" you say. "It's just a couch."

For all the apartments and rooms I've lived in, for all the mattresses I've slept on and dressers I've assembled (some with a little help from some wood glue and my friends), the tables and chairs I've salvaged from garage sales and consignment shops, I have never purchased any piece of furniture that:

1. I loved; or
2. I planned to keep around and in good condition for an extended period of time.

I'm trying to explain this landmark event and my newfound love for a shapely leather silhouette to my mother on the phone, and she says, "Does Kitty know not to scratch the leather?"
M: "She gets one free swipe and then I'm having her declawed."
Mom: "Ok."
M: "Cats don't like leather, do they?"
Mom: "Are you kidding? Cats LOVE leather."
M: "Mine won't."
Mom: "...Ok."
M: "I'll buy her a kitty condo. Three stories of carpet-covered amusement. I love this couch."
Mom: "I know."

In other landmark news, this is my first Texas Christmas.
Bring me glad tidings of good cheer.