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My wife covers our sofas and chairs with throw pillows. She complains if I sit on them OR if I leave them on the floor. I can’t get comfortable in my own home. What do you say to that? Let me guess: You are also surrounded by Dupioni table runners, dusty scented pillar candles, ornamental picture frames, and faux Tuscan antiques, correct? I’m sorry to have to tell you this, pal: Your wife is a Décor Whore. You see, while hetero men view their sofas as butt-hugging happiness zones, wives typically use furniture to visually frame a room. It’s nesting instinct, newly mutated by the Home and Garden Network. “Throw” pillows have become “meticulously arranged” pillows; your comfort has become inconsequential. And with such large canvases to work with, Décor Whores simply can’t resist the plethora of plump, high-priced pillows available at Horchow. What’s worse, many Martha Stewarts change their palettes with the season, so you likely have a closet stacked rafter-high with luminescent oranges, greens and pastels too. |
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Your best approach is a full lobotomy and a Burning Man-style ritual in the backyard—with pillows for fuel. However, assuming your lovely spouse possesses traits that you are rather fond of – such as real breasts and a mouthwatering Beef Stroganoff – there are less Stepford-esque ways to get along. |
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| No responses worth repeating. Yet. But I wait with bated breath. |
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