Three years ago when we moved into the apartment we live in now we bought a leather (we think) sectional set from one of those discount furniture warehouses. I wanted to go somewhere like Macy’s and purchase a living room set that would endure our busy lifestyle, but my husband, the more frugal half of our duo, insisted that we “get a deal”. That day as we stood in the middle of that showroom, surrounded by “unbelievable deals” and “last chance to save” signs, I grabbed my husband’s hand and asked him directly what we’d do if the furniture proved to be as crappy as I expected and gave out on us sooner rather than later. He looked me in the eye and swore to me that if my predictions came true he’d get his “handy man on” and fix them so we’d still save money. Foolishly, I believed him, and we bought the doomed sofas. Continue reading
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