Back when I lived in Wisconsin, we would often take trips up to Amish country to take a break from city life. It was about a three hour drive away from our house, and we would have to wind through mountains and the see the most breathtaking scenery to get there. I honestly wish I could pack up and move there forever.
Anyway, I had seen the signs advertising Amish furniture. You buy it directly from the Amish… and they are SOOOO nice. And this was the same stuff I had seen in those high end stores where they were charging upwards of $3,000 for a set. I could buy it for $400!! And so I did. I got myself a whole new kitchen set (which I still have to this day) and a bunch of other little items.
But then, I spotted a sign that said “Authentic Amish Quilts”. I have always wanted to be one of those people who has the nice bedding and then the fabulously crafted quilt folded up at the foot of their bed; Something handed down from 100 years before - and will never ever happen in my family. So naturally, having something called authentic + Amish was the way for me to go.
When we walked in there were quilts everywhere in every color, size, design. It was amazing and I wanted to buy everything! We asked a lot of questions, and were told it takes 4-6 months to complete just ONE. We could custom order one, and they could put a rush on it but that would take 3-5 months. No way in hell was I going to wait MONTHS for the opportunity to turn my bedroom into a picture straight out of Better Homes and Gardens.
I looked around for almost an hour until I saw it. It was beautiful. Light green and ivory… the pattern was perfect for my bedroom… the colors looked like an exact match… I could not have asked for a better one to be made just for me!
I did a little dance of joy and squealed. I pointed like my tongue had been ripped out or something, all while making little insane noises. The DH told the young lady helping us in the search that we had found one (which was quite obvious by how stupid I was looking at the time.)
Now, no where in my enthusiasm had I asked for a price. We asked 101 questions but never what the cost might be.
And then she sprung it on me. My lovely quilt was going to cost me more than all the furniture and other crap I had bought COMBINED.
I looked to my DH for a sign. Of course he had lost all his color (he has so little so it wasn’t much of a change) and was staring at me like I should have all the answers.
So I said I would take it.
It would take me 2 months of working to pay it off, and I did not care. Mind you I was getting paid a lot less back then.
Fast forward about 13 years and the life of the quilt has been a great one. It has traveled with us to each of our new homes still looking brand new. It’s been oooohed and ahhhhhhed at. My mom has been dying to steal it from me for years which will never happen. It’s been fortunate to have only have been touched by two people. All from inside its cozy home inside of sterile clear plastic bag with it’s own little zipper.
It’s been used once.
And why has it been used only once? Because I am so neurotic that after spending all that money, I do not want it destroyed. I have cats, and dogs. I certainly don’t want them on it. I seriously have it in my head that when I finally move into a brand new house, I will put it out. That way I will be secure in knowing it’s safe and I won’t come home to discover it has been made into a new bed by one of my furry babies.
Ultimately, the true reason must be that I am in desperate need of therapy or an intervention. For real. I wouldn’t even take it out to photograph it for this post.
Hurry and send the men in white coats please.
