I'm headed out to purchase brand new leather furniture at lazboy.
Five hours later... done. I am the proud owner of more stuff. I put my old stuff on craigslist but nobody seems to want it. Go to: portland craigslist-furniture-mission sofa and loveseat - if you want to see my crap. yep. Its right there. It won't be delivered until July, so the immediate gratification part of my brain is experiencing a minor stroke, but I am ready to sit on camp chairs for two months. You read it here first.
I will probably make minor adjustments in the decor -- just ever so tiny -- perhaps paint and carpet, maybe window coverings. Maybe. The leather is very dark brown. Coffee grounds brown. Future Martha Stewart postings are very likely. I am a little disturbed at the notion of purchasing Lazboy products, but they are not recliners and offer a great repair guarantee package for the leather. Lazgirl, now that I could get behind.
The search for furniture, a lifelong pursuit, always involved orbiting early yard sales and dusty second-hand stores. This is new, though, and the cruise through crowded furniture showrooms has been illuminating. The things they think people will put on a coffee table. Where are your feet supposed to go? These items of African interest are big and un-ignorable. And useless. Now, as I gaze around my own little showroom, I'll admit not every single thing has a purpose, but three giant picture frames with one Pakistani purse suspended between layers of glass, all three sitting in the middle of the table, blocking my view of Survivor? I don't think so.
And get this: the sofa cushions are attached to the sofa. Not loose. They wouldn't slide off if you begged them. Now, where will all the money go? I recall (wistfully) digging for change to do laundry. Back then, a quarter was a big find. Those were the days, eh? A load of wash for a quarter, hauling dirty laundry tied in sheets like a hobo stick to the Ruch laundramat, sitting the children on the washer during spin cycle because we couldn't afford the horse at the checkout stand. And we did all the laundry at once. Thirteen loads was not unusual. Make a day of it, then, stack it all nice and folded, tie it back up and haul it home: kids, dogs, whiskey and all, hitchhiking highway 238 with nothing to fear but the ol' man at home. If I remember long enough, I always get there.
But these sofas.... I'm not sure how to take care of them. Do I get a skinny attachment for my vacuum cleaner? Nah. Who vacuums?
