Self Censored

Some times my brain does manage to slam on the brakes before I open my mouth.

My parents are thinking of buying a new three-piece suite to replace the leather one they’ve had for ages. I was talking to day about this, after he’d offered the old suite for our living room. (If we were to take on the suite, on top of our existing furniture, we would end up with about enough floorspace to put down a cup of coffee.) We were discussing how old said furniture was by trying to remember landmark dates. I thought, but didn’t blurt out, “Oh yes, it must be at least that old, I remember having sex with [name withheld] on one of the chairs in 1990.”

Of course, putting this post on the blog isn’t as bad as saying it over the phone.

Is it?