Is lusting after furniture a sin?

Once upon a time, in the last century, my late husband and I bought this house from a very busy couple; he an oral surgeon, she a brain surgeon, with two kids, a large dog and a nanny. I suspect the only stores they went to were grocery stores, and that they bought everything else mail order. We became "Or" (the current resident) to a mindboggling collection of catalogs that missed being forwarded. Once or twice a week something would arrive. My wonderment at the profusion of catalogs caused me to start collecting them to see how they'd add up. Six months later, I had a two foot pile. It took years to stop being the "Or" family. I think that Siberia on the Heights was a "desirable" zipcode to the catalog producers, because it took years, in some instances for the catalogs to stop coming. I think the only one we succumbed to was Lillian Vernon, who at that time had storage items that were difficult to find elsewhere.

27 years later....

I'd been gawking at the Toscano catalogs that came to a friend at work. The peculiar combination of religious articles, medievalish gargoyle/dragon tchotckes, lovely library furniture & fittings and other oddments enchanted me. The continual exposure to the catalog finally got me to ordering a couple things from them. The funky gag gift of pens turned out to be much more nicely made than I'd anticipated, and the humor part mutated into just a bit peculiar. The other items, some celtic knot work sculpture, were decent for the price. I was happy. I figured I'd be getting the Toscano catalog myself now.

Yes, that happened AND a stream of about one new catalog a week in an increasingly peculiar vein. It was easy to be amused with the one that had a combination of wiccan folderol, Christian tchotckes and hippiechick clothes. The lamp catalog was something I knew I should hide from Chuck (who has a fetish for acquiring lamps). But what really got me moaning and drooling was the fairly thick catalog with dozens of lovely, reasonably priced furniture in the Mission style. Some gave you the choice of "golden" or "Morris" oak. Even with reasonable prices, what I want out of that catalog likely equals a year's worth of salary, between the oak and the rugs. Oh yah.. lovely lovely rugs. Wool. Rugs. I am damned to catalust & I'll save you, gentle reader, the same fate by not posting their link. You'd thank me, really.