I have my old couch back. Completely transformed. It is a thing of beauty.
Just as well Hubby is immune to flowers and pink and general shabby chicness. Because there is rather a lot of it about!
He takes the extreme pragmatists view that it is just something to sit on. It doesn't matter what it looks like. I consider myself fortunate to have such licence to be floral!
It can work the other way though, as it is also his view that all gardens should be made up of large areas of concrete for parking cars! I just keep planting the fox gloves and mowing the lawns, and the lack of concrete is only mentioned in passing when a "wind up" of "the sheila" is required.
So I have spent time moving the chairs about and then back again, resettling things into a state of zen-like calm and tranquility.
And the Tail Cat has slept on each of the three cushions in turn, testing which is the best one no doubt. No reports on weather the porridge was too hot or too cold!!!!!
No matter how I re-arrange them.
I don't think there is any known cure for addiction to chairs.
It began many years ago when my God Mother Jill had her old suite re-covered in blue gingham.
I was captivated, and realised that there was a whole world of chairs out there just waiting to be discovered. And they didn't have to be brown and velour. Truly a moment of enlightenment, similar to discovering that tea cups and coffee cups did not have to be brown and made in Temuka.