Lately, I’ve been worried about saving money on Memorial Day furniture before I move into my new home. A nerve-wracking endeavor, you’re freaking out because of the psychological phenomenon (and myth) of scarcity. As my Meemee reminded me, there are also sales on Fourth of July, too.
As far as my shopping went, I did pretty well (scored a mattress). But some daily meditation would have made things easier—or at least would have prevented sporadic panic.
I tried to do a one fell swoop at Value City furniture…until my sister reminded me that people spend their entire lives curating their homes.
“Oh,” I said, as she analyzed the mid-century modern couch I ordered.
“That won’t be very comfortable,” she said. “The arms on the sides stick straight up. The furniture you buy will likely follow you longer than living in your new home.”
I cancelled my entire furniture order and exchanged immediate satisfaction, for patient selection, pending a verbal confirmation of her assistance.
Sometimes it’s okay to ask for help. Especially when we are doing things with little experience.
We all know the feeling of, but I don’t want to bother anyone. But God, if someone was with me for the first mattress store I went into, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten border-line hustled into buying a mechanical/adjustable lift.
And this isn’t some ho-hum “if only I wasn’t a poor, indecisive woman” comment. This is a “mattress salespeople can be sharks on Memorial Day weekend, bring your A-Game” comment.
For someone who has a missing parent in their lives, you need to make some outstanding reaches to make sure that void is filled. Look around at your support system. Ask yourself: Do I have an Aunt Laura Sue who has strong opinions about appliances? Yes. Yes I do.
The asking isn’t ideal or picturesque. No doubt you’ll still feel the dull ache of motherly absence; a force that brushes her bosom over all situations because her child is indeed her business.
But post-asking is a little more enjoyable, and a little less worrisome, than gritting your teeth on your own and ending up with a shit-couch.