Custom

Yesterday our new sofa was delivered. Our *custom* Lee Industries English Roll Arm sofa has put all our other furniture to shame. So lovely, so well built, so...comfortable.
This is our first "grown-up" purchase to date (excluding, of course, our gorgeous antique (i.e. reeediculously expensive) Chinese buffet which we bought while we were broke in graduate school. And that wasn't what I would define as a "grown-up" decision.

Besides the Chinese buffet most of our furniture has consisted of 1. Ikea things inherited from Devin's dorm room, 2. Decent though dated things inherited from grandmothers and aunts, and 3. free or basically free stuff from roadsides, Craigslist, flea-markets or old chicken-coops (i.e. the coffee table pictured above. It was in some guys barn covered in chicken...youknow. Needless to say, he didn't charge us to haul it away.)

We had the loveseat (another fleamarket find) recovered, and it doesn't look so bad.

The problem with custom is that it is fosters a spirit of discontent. Everything else in the house looks a little bit shabbier next to the new *custom* couch (I mean you cheapo jute rug!! oh--and baby toys, yes.)

The only thing in the room that outshines the sofa is my own little darling piece of Custom Work:

Harriet reeeealy wanted to look at the "babies" on the little screen on the back of the camera. Because, you know, that's what cameras are for (taking pictures of babies. Not sofas. Duh, mom).
"Babies??"
"Bayy bees!! ?"
"Baaaayyyy Beeees!!"
She so doesn't care about custom furniture. Who knew?"