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Oh, cushions how you mock me

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Oh brown cushions.

Why was I seduced by your perfect shade of chocolatey goodness, the sexy cotton velveteen covers, which brought to mind so many seventies modular lounges?

Why did I indulge in four, yes four of you?

I should have known it was folly.

For now, you sit, adorning the lounge with your soft velvety beauty, but it is all a sham.

Your are stuffed with down, to lounge against you is to know the comfort of using an scrubbing brush for a bolster.

Lint is relentless in it’s pursuit of you.

You are, in short, a cushiony disaster.

Curse you brown cushion, I may never be able to give myself to another with such abandon.

Who knows if I will ever love again.


One response

  1. I hate my down cushions too – maybe because they were cheap at Ikea, the feathers keep coming out and I’m sick of picking them up.And I can’t help with your fear of hills, maybe Australian hills are scarier than the Canadian kind?

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