My couch smells like floral pickled urine with a side of mouthwash. It’s not really conducive to inviting company over for drinks. We’ve tried every cleaner known to man, we’ve had the windows open for days, and you still get dizzy just walking in the door. Bad kitty! That’s why we can’t have nice things.
Actually, my couch passed “nice” a couple years ago. It was closely followed by my comforter, my stove, and my big screen TV. My jeep just hit 50,000 miles. I’m expecting to wake up one morning to find it looking wistfully through repair shops in the yellow pages. Older cars like to get regularly pampered at the dealership day spa.
It kind of took me by surprise that my house, my appliances, and furniture are no longer new. I miss the new house smell, but I can live with that. More ominous is the fact that my term life insurance policy ran out last year. It can’t be good when your personal warranty expires.
All the signs were there. The shoebox full of pills, the post-menopausal panty liners from Depends, and a shiny new handlebar in the tub. My insurance agent assured me that for pennies a day, I could switch to their whole life policy. I had visions of Alex Trebec telling me that my loved ones would be able to afford a funeral that didn’t involve an old pickup truck, a cliff, and a gallon of lighter fluid.
I hate buying an appliance and the store wants to sell me their special warranty plan. Just build it right in the first place and I won’t need your stinkin’ peace of mind. Nevertheless, I decided to go with the new policy. It can’t be canceled and the rates won’t go up. Now if they would throw in a repair or replacement provision, I’d be golden.
I may not be shiny and new anymore, but I figure I’m more like a favorite pair of jeans – well worn and comfortable. I won’t worry about being put out on the curb until I start to smell like my couch.