Wednesday's Words for September 30, 2009

Our living room is furnished in a unique style called Canadian garage sale. We bought the four pieces—sofa, loveseat, chair and ottoman—from the back of a hay wagon at a rural garage sale a few years ago. Rust colored semi-plush material covers them, and we bought them because there wasn’t a mark or blemish visible, and the price was right: fifteen dollars for the lot.

The sofa and chair they replaced and been gnawed on by my late son’s dog, they were ratty and torn, and so our garage sale special was a definite improvement. The only complaint I had against this set (and still do) is that it shows ever speck of dust or lint and so it needs to be vacuumed nearly every day.

My beloved (bless his redneck heart) was thrilled with the bargain, and warned me at the time (only half in jest) that since he’d just bought me a new living room suite, I ought not to go expecting anything else anytime soon.

Time passes.

A few weeks ago, Beloved announced that he’d like to look into getting a recliner. His back pains him from time to time, and he’s been having difficulty getting comfortable sitting on the sofa—which remains very comfortable, he claims, for lying on.

I told him I’d like a recliner, too. The garage sale chair, while still in fairly good condition, is a bit lower to the floor than I am comfortable rising from. Especially since I tore the ligaments in my right knee a couple weeks ago and have had to be using my cane all the time since.

So the decision was made that the Ashbury’s would be acquiring two new chairs. I was commissioned to go forth and search the local stores. “I’d really prefer to not pay over one hundred and fifty dollars per chair,” my beloved said as he sent me on my mission.

Yes, it has been a long time since he’s looked at living room furniture.

We bought that new bedroom set a couple years ago as you know, but we’re rather odd people. When we go into a furniture store looking for a particular thing that is all we look at.

I went into an international chain store that specializes in recliners. I got excited as I approached the store and saw the banner, “Huge sale on now!” Mentally rubbing my hands in glee at this fortuitous timing, I prepared to save money.
And then I stepped into the store.

Huge selection? Absolutely. Beautiful recliners? Beyond doubt. Excellent bargain at one thousand dollars (marked down from 1600)? Not to me.

I walked (with some difficulty) the entire store, my mouth agape. Does anyone actually pay a thousand dollars or better for one chair? Really?

The answer is likely yes, and you now have yet another example that Morgan is neither worldly nor sophisticated. I reported my findings to my beloved, and I can tell to you today that sticker shock is indeed a communicable disease.

We searched several more stores, finding chairs that were less expensive, but not by a whole lot. And then I read an ad for a brand new store opening up in the city next to us. We went in last Friday.

Our new chairs arrived on Monday. My beloved is very pleased with the look and the comfort of the chairs, and with the cost. I didn’t point out to him that we ended up paying twice what he’d originally set as the limit, per chair.

Some things are better left unsaid.

Love,
Morgan
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