I Am The Kane’s Furniture Online Room Planner, And I’ve Ruined A Lot Of Marriages

Shit, man.

SHIT.

This is not where I thought I would be. At all. This wasn’t what I was supposed to be doing with my life.

The interactive, user-friendly service I provide is intended to make people’s lives easier. To let them plan their future houses with a few swift clicks. To allow young, brand new homeowners to digitally move an area rug from their dining room to their living room in under five seconds so they know if they like it better there before they do all of that manual labor or if it should just stay where it is, you know?

But I’ve ruined a lot of marriages.

The bickering. The floorplans. The crying. The throwing the laptops into pools. I didn’t mean for any of it to happen. I swear.

I think it’s my incredibly accessible interface. The young newlyweds open me up, wide-eyed and full of hope for their futures, and are greeted with striking visuals and room representations that match their aspirations. The second they venture to the Living Room tab, though, all hell breaks loose. She wanted a chaise. He wanted to bring his sofa from college that is still in perfectly good condition. She wants the area rug in the living room. He says it should just stay where it is, you know? We’ve already moved it eight times.

And then there’s the kitchen. What happened to Linda’s dream of having a retro look? Landon just wants stainless steel. Simplicity. I offer both, plus thirty-four other combinations with a Martha Stewart cutlery set thrown in. I wish I didn’t.

God, I wish I didn’t.

I’m only here to help. But the truth is, I’m fast-tracking doomed couples to divorce. I hate myself. I only wanted to provide access to interior design templates for busy couples in touch with the digital age. Kane’s Furniture needs to rethink me. The Pinterest really tanked last month, though. We’re talking thousands of engagements that never even happened because the guy couldn’t handle all of the Pinterest links with hearts and exclamation points and “OUR FUTURE!!” next to them being emailed to him on an hourly basis.

The line that lies within me and my aspirational mechanisms, though, is when they can rapidly toggle to the home office layout. Oh no. This is where I really wish I could just shut down. But they’re in control.

“Shouldn’t we leave it open for when we start a family?!”

“Where is Aunt Madge supposed to sleep when she visits?!”

“YOU PROMISED ME A FAMILY! WHY ELSE WOULD I MARRY THE FUCKING CITY COMPTROLLER, LANDON?!?! WHO DO YOU THINK I AM, MRS. SOCIETY OVER HERE? NO! I JUST WANT MY MOTHER TO SEE A GRANDCHILD COME FROM THIS COLD, LOVELESS BODY BEFORE SHE DIES!”

Don’t even get me started on “Step 2: Paint Mix n’ Match!”

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