A few years ago I bought a linen couch. It’s semi-wonderful, almost beautiful, not quite what I was dreaming of, but appealed to a friends advice on the reality of living with a two year old at the time. It’s darker than I had wanted intentionally avoiding the residue of little fingers, sippy cup spills, and sneaker prints. The wisdom of that decision arises as I seemingly clean the darker taupe linen several times a year mumbling threats of microfiber to save my sanity. However I still am envious when I see beautiful cream colored upholstery. At what period in life is owning such beautiful pieces appropriate for every day living? Yes, I’m still dreaming of the couch I didn’t buy. The sweet and sour practicality of life decisions.