28861Wednesday's Words for May 7, 2014
- May 7 5:50 AM
Ah, it really is spring time! How can I tell? Is it the sound of lawnmowers and the scent of freshly cut grass? Is it the flap of laundry on the line, or the appearance of little green shoots promising beauteous blooms? Is it the warmer temperatures, or the sound of birdsong on the breeze?
No. It’s Morgan, deciding now is the time to update the appearance of her living room.
I’d like to preface this next segment by reminding y’all that I am not really a shopper. If you recall, not that many years ago, my beloved and I purchased an entire living room suite from the back of a farm trailer at a garage sale. We paid, I believe, 15 dollars for a loveseat, sofa, chair and ottoman.
Yes, the pieces were upholstered in a hideous 1980s faux fuzz, of a definite russet hue, but a bargain is a bargain—and Mr. Ashbury was very proud of this bargain.
Time moves on. Over the last few years we replaced that bargain suite with two recliners, and then a year later, we purchased a sofa bed. They were all of the same fabric, a kind of pseudo suede, and from the same furniture store—a store that is now gone, having survived for all of four years.
The recliners need a good cleaning, but that sofa bed has been deceased for some time. Since my two grandchildren were using it, (which was why we bought it in the first place), it underwent a great deal of wear and tear in a short period of time. They broke the part that held up the cushions, over a year ago. In order for me to be able to sit on it and then get off it, my beloved had to put a piece of plywood under the cushions. The result was that I could sit and then get off it again, but my butt got numb in the interim.
Whilst visiting friends last year, I experienced the awesomeness of a power loveseat, and decided right then and there, that I wanted one.
Two months ago, I began to make the suggestion that it was past time to replace our sofa, and that we should replace it with a love seat. By powered, of course, I mean that it is really more like two recliners close together. After much hinting on my part, Mr. Ashbury agreed that we should begin the process of looking at them.
Now, my southern friends will chuckle when I say this about my beloved: bless his heart. He was raised by a daddy who was never once wrong in his entire life! That, of course, can be an interesting experience for a child. One of the tenets his daddy clung to, and that my beloved unfortunately absorbed, is that you must never, ever buy the first one you see.
Of anything, at any time, in any place, ever.
I had a demonstration of how well my husband absorbed this tenet when my last car was written off by the insurance company (while he was away on vacation with our daughter), and I had to work on getting another car asap. So I looked several places on line, and then arranged to see the one I wanted at the dealership I took my last car to for service. I made the appointment for the day after my husband came home from vacation.
When we got to the dealership, my beloved insisted we take two other cars for a test drive (neither of which were Buicks like the one I’d made the appointment to see, I might add) because he was certain that the car I wanted—being the first one I had “seen” could not possibly be the right car for us.
Yes, he had to concede that the ones he’d chosen were not very good value for the dollar and didn’t ride nearly as well as the one I had chosen. That was two years ago and yes, we purchase the “first one I’d seen”.
Fast forward to this past weekend. We went to a furniture store on Saturday, to look at the loveseat I wanted. Again, I had examined several on line. This one had all the features we wanted—cup holders, storage area, and a good warranty—and it was on sale! I looked forward to closing the deal. But as far as my beloved was concerned, we weren’t necessarily going to buy anything that day. We were, he insisted, just going to sit on this loveseat I had chosen, to see how it felt because, of course, this was just the first one I had seen and it couldn’t possibly be the right loveseat for us.
As I said earlier, bless his heart.
We sat, and he pressed the button and sighed when the loveseat reclined until he was practically horizontal. Then he pushed the button again and again and again, and marveled how he could choose any position, any position at all. The loveseat was so comfortable in fact, he really didn’t want to get out of it—not even with the prospect of lunch at his favorite restaurant next on the agenda.
To his credit he did not once remind me that this had been the first one we had seen and that we shouldn’t buy it. Not once. Neither did I, at that time, tease him about the same thing.
Our new loveseat will be delivered on Friday.