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I have two decorative pillows on my couch in the living room. I got them so long ago that I can’t remember how they wound up in my possession or how they wound up making a regular appearance on the couch. The crinkly beige fabric on them makes them disappear into the nearly identical shade of the sofa. That is, except for one mysterious black ink spot (I suspect a broken pen, and thank god it didn’t bleed onto the couch) which often makes me do a double-take thinking it might be a spider. This means that my living room, despite actually having accessories (a very unique circumstance in the house so far), is still completely devoid of color except for the new rug. Not good, right?
I just realized that somehow I have a flip flop on the dining room table. For the life of me, I can’t remember why or how that came to be.
When touching these pillows, it felt as if the fabric on the outside could be separated from the pillow form within… and then I formed an idea. You see where this is going now, right? I, Sarah, have committed pillowcide.
The good news is that I had a little fun getting rid of the ugly and old fabric. The bad news? The interior of the pillow was definitely not suited to be separated from the outside! Almost immediately, things fell apart. Then Charlie got interested in the tattered mess I was about to take a photo of (if only for experimental purposes and proof of a project fail) and ran off with the evidence. Then she dragged it through her water bowl and I had no choice but to throw it away instead of taking pictures. Oh well.
