My mother gets a bee in her bonnet about things like this sometimes. When I last moved house - over ten years ago now - she said that my dining table was a bit big for the new place. It’s true that it had a smaller dining area than the old flat, but the table isn’t ridiculously huge, so I said maybe I’d change it at some point, but that it was an unnecessary expense when I’d just moved. You’d think that was the end of it. Ohhhhh no.
‘I saw a lovely one in the Next catalogue. It’s extendable, so you could still have a big table when you want one’.
Me: ‘Well, maybe in a few years, but as I say, it’s not a priority’.
Her: ‘Do you get the Next catalogue? If you sign up for it you could have a look. Is there a big Next anywhere near you? Some of the big ones have them in store’.
Me: ‘Like I said, not a priority’.
Her on the phone weeks later: ‘Did you manage to get to Next? Shall I send you the page from my catalogue’.
Her five years later when I said I was replacing my bed: ‘Do you really need a new bed? I’d have thought the table was a priority’.
Me: ‘Well the bed’s got a big hole in the middle of the divan. I’m having to sleep in the spare room. Yes, I need a new bed’.
Her when I later replaced the sofas: ‘You’re not replacing the table then?’
Me: ‘Shut up shut up SHUT UPPPPPPPPP!!!!!’ [Paraphrasing slightly]
Ironically, I originally bought the table from some family members who did house renovations... guess who one of those family members was? And who actually suggested it?