Back to the start

Going in circles is usually annoying.

But it’s always a chance to start again.

My husband and I don’t normally spend big money on furniture, but five years ago we wanted to encourage hanging out and relaxing on our sunny deck with the kids, who were then old enough to hang out and still young enough to want to be in the sun.

There were two main requirements: durability and a price I could stomach.

All couches with white cushions quickly got ruled out. How was that going to look like anything you’d want to sit on, even in a year? I could blame the kids or the pets for this fact, but there’s also, um, me. Am I really not going to drop a red juicy strawberry on the couch? I don’t want furniture that I’m going to worry about. That doesn’t sound relaxing at all.

There weren’t many options in the non-white category, though, and I was in a loop of indecision. Then I had a brilliant idea: I could dye white cushion covers a different color. Soon a couch set was purchased along with boxes of blue dye.

Dying the cushion covers was a much bigger and annoying project than I had anticipated (it was a pain in the ass). I boiled water on the kitchen stove in an oversized pot, dropped in a cushion cover for the set amount of time, then carried scalding water outside to pour it out where our yard meets the woods. Repeated for each cushion cover. There were many low points.

But the couch did look great when I was done with all that dye.

Blue cushions were beaming in the sun.

Beaming in the sun.

In the sun.

By the end of that first season, the sun had faded the cushions to a light blue.

Each season they faded more—marbled light blue, tie-dyed light purple, and then finally, pink. I didn’t want pink couch cushions, but at least the pink was uniform by then.

Want to guess what color the couch cushions are this year?

White.

The return to white couch cushions.

And I’m kind of enjoying them. I can’t tell if that’s because they’re not pink or because my spills are mostly landing on my shirt.

I’m also enjoying how lucky I am that I didn’t ruin the couch.

It’s funny how we can end up back where we started. But then again, do we ever really end up in the exact same place?

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Life after the pit