We went out on Sunday to the mall to buy some socks. I don’t know what happens to them, but for some reason about every five years I have to buy more of the damn things as their predecessors go AWOL one by one. I bought seven pairs in a pack, very nifty ones made in China with colour coded heel and toe inserts which means each sock can be reunited with its correct mate when they come out of the washing machine. But this post isn’t about socks. On our way out of the mall we dropped in to the House and Home to look at microwaves, and emerged about twenty minutes later the proud owners of a new leather lounge suite. This was a spur-of-the-moment purchase, but still necessary–the old cane suite has become increasingly rickety and lumpy for some time and is now the property of the dog.
Now this has caused words to be exchanged between myself and the owner of my heart, Scallywag. There have been no recriminations as to cost, or the tastefulness or otherwise of the colour or design, the problem is that I call the two elements of the suite that seat more than one person sofas, and she calls them couches.
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