How To Adult: Buying A Sofa

As someone who has this whole adulting thing pretty nailed and definitely didn’t just eat a handful of pre-grated mozzeralla as a snack, I can’t think of anyone more qualified to give you a simple step-by-step guide to buying a brand new sofa with your partner.

Now, this is a pretty big step so I’d urge you not attempt this until you have some of the ‘How To Adult’ basics under your belt such as making a bed, installing a washing machine or packing for a move.

Step One: Measuring. Measure whatever blanket-covered cardboard box you are currently calling a sofa. But don’t stop there. You will need to measure many more things than you thought, apparently, to decide what your minimum and maximum dimensions could be. If you’ve already had a large glass of wine, just let your partner get on with it. It would be helpful if you stopped lying across the length of the sofa whilst they do this, but you’re oddly resistant to change and have declared your position to be “don’t want” loudly enough that it cannot be misinterpreted.

Pro tip: Don’t bother to measure your doorway or the narrow corridor leading to your flat that a sofa will have to fit down. This will make for a fun whispered argument in a busy sofa store because, surprise! In order to buy a new sofa you have to become one of those couples.

Step Two: Ignore your partner’s cries of “you don’t need to take selfies, this is going to be a simple and straightforward purchase, I do not want to end up in a blog post. No. Seriously. I mean it. Oh for God’s sake.”

Step Three: Do your research. This can be done in advance of getting in the car to go to the magical land of sofas if you’re a nerd, but it’s 2018, and your data plan is pretty comprehensive, so just do your research in the car.

Step Four: Whilst doing your research en route, realise two things almost simultaneously: how much sofas cost, and that you are not fit or agile enough to escape from a moving vehicle. React appropriately.

Step Five: Enter the store talking loudly in French. This will trick all the pushy sales people into believing you can’t speak English and they will leave you alone. If you don’t know any French, just shout “baguette” very loudly at every sofa you see. This will also ensure people leave you alone.

Pro tip: If you did not bring a tape measure with you (why would you have? it’s not one of the steps in this definitive guide) just take one that you find lying on a momentarily unguarded desk. It’s not stealing if you have every intention of returning it, even if you then lose it somewhere in the seventh circle of hell DFS.

Step Six: Remain supportive of one another. This isn’t quite as bad as taking someone you love to an Ikea, but it’s up there. Try not to raise your voice, ask why you were made to leave your hip-flask in the car, or declare yourself to be living in the post-sofa revolution. Apparently these things are unhelpful.

Remember, you love your partner, and they’re your ride home, so don’t piss them off.

Step Seven: This is less a step and more of a recommendation from someone with experience, but if you feel like you’ve now sat on every sofa in the building at least fifteen times, tell your partner they have three minutes to make a decision before you pick the ugly silver velour sofa that belongs in a terrible soft-core vampire porno.

Step Eight: Try very very hard not to kill your partner as they decide they want the very same sofa they showed you a picture of in the preVi0US YEAR’S JANUARY SALES BUT NEVER GOT AROUND TO BUYING.

Congratulations. I hope you and your sofa and your now-estranged partner will all be very happy together. Until they read your blog post mocking them that is…

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I’m blogging competitively this month with imacomedianhonest.
I’m losing miserably but it is making me blog again, which was the point of the competition (she said, like a sore loser).

A.