Being an adult means you get to have a couch

Our college dorm-like living room is a mere memory. Our tiny love seat has gone on to bigger and greater things and our legs thank us every time we stretch out on 70 inches of pure bliss. Sure the love seat was perfect for cuddling, after all it isn't called a "love" seat for nothing. But we had had enough of the leg cramps and squished bodies. And I'm sure our friends will thank us now that they don't have to sit a nose length away from us.

Martin surprised me with this beauty on Christmas morning.  I opened my gift, confused...was it a piggy bank? For the cats? I kept smiling hoping someone would tell me what I was holding in my hands. Martin told me excitedly that we were getting a new couch and he was letting me pick it out! Such a nice husband.

I was tempted to take in my model couch with us to the store and ask a sales associate if they could please find something similar to this. "You don't have anything in this color? Well, that's a shame."

After spending an hour just walking through the maze that is Ikea, we came home with a couch that suits us perfectly. We love it and have even experienced a few naps that have not left us with a big charlie horse in our calves.

It's funny because the past few times that Martin and I have sat on the couch together I noticed that we both sat on the same seat cushion, squished together with miles of extra couch next to us. We're not used to all this extra space...but that's okay with me. I don't mind the snuggling for a little while longer.