Last week, I decided to finish up my homemade distressed jeans whilst vegging on my parents’ couch, and made the mistake of using Mom’s precious leather ottoman for leverage. Note to self: A Stanley Utility knife is sharp enough to cut through two layers of denim AND whatever’s on the other side. It probs goes without saying that my level of common sense is subpar at best.
The following ensued:
Mom: What are you DOING?!!!
Me: Exacting my knifing skills on a pair of jeans. Why?
Mom: Jesus CHRIST Alexandra – you’re destroying my furniture!
I lifted the denim to confirm, and there it was: A small slit in Mom’s pricey leather ottoman. Fuck.
I apologized profusely, she handed me a cutting board and exited in a huff, understandably so.
Riddled with guilt, I offered to buy her a new ottoman.
Mom: I don’t WANT a new OTTOMAN. I want those JEANS.
Giving up the jeans was a more than fair price to pay for effing up Mom’s furniture. I was shocked that she was even remotely interested in them, but I wasn’t about to question an easy, cost-free means of absolving my guilt.
She wore them out that very evening, received a slew of compliments, and hasn’t taken them off since.
Lesson learned; problem solved. Phew!