Saturday, January 12, 2019
The Right Chair
Olga has an upset stomach this morning. There's lots of gurgling going on, and she demanded to be let out at 5 a.m. She probably ate something mysterious, as is typical for her. She seems better now, having spent twenty minutes foraging for grass in the garden.
Do you remember our wayward recliner? I'm sure you don't, because I barely remembered it myself. Last year, I ordered Dave a La-Z-Boy recliner for his 50th birthday. I placed the order in May, with his birthday at the end of June. I thought it might come in time. (Ha!)
It finally arrived at the beginning of September, and when it did, it was the wrong chair. (Click the link above for the whole story.) So we sent it back in exchange for the correct one. And we waited some more.
To be honest, I pretty much forgot about the whole thing. Every once in a while I'd think, "Oh, I've got to find out where that chair is." And then life would intervene and another week or two would pass. In late December I got an e-mail from the furniture company thanking me for my order, which seemed odd, since I hadn't recently been in touch with them.
I finally called early this week, and lo and behold, the chair was finished. (I guess that's what I was supposed to infer from that thank-you e-mail?)
The delivery guys showed up yesterday, parked illegally across the street, carried the chair past our neighbor's discarded Christmas tree and up our front steps, and through the house to our living room. They unwrapped it and set it up and voila, Dave finally has a recliner.
Last night, he ooohed and aaaahed as he sat down and reclined, and then he fell asleep during "The Romanoffs" (which I love, by the way) and he wound up sleeping in the chair at least part of the night. When I went to bed I tried to wake him up and he wouldn't budge. I guess he likes it!
(Photo: A windowsill in the library as I was locking up last night, around 4:58 p.m.)