I took care of a lot of little things yesterday.
Finally hung that cool sign where I wanted.
Seemed to fit perfectly with the “Fairies” sign.
I managed to actually follow directions and repair a tiny little chip in the windshield of my faithful (and famous) Toyota Rav 4.
The largest delay was accepting the counterintuitive instruction to create a vacuum once you added the resin – I couldn’t figure out how sucking back the plunger was going to force the resin forward into the tiny crack. But I rejected my usual “I know better” view of the world and just did what they said and voila. Let’s see if it holds.
Then my wife won her long term campaign of attrition to replace our living room furniture. You all know how much I love my recliner – Lisa has a matching one – and the couch, which also reclines, still looks great.
Truth is that 8 years of my 200 plus frame and the regular onslaught of grans that treat them like a bouncy castle and five huge animals that loved to stake out time in the comfy chairs –
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=T2ncJ6ciGyM
– both alone and on top of humans,
and never confessed to their misdeeds, have taken their toll on the steel structure.
The seats tilt a little. You need to place a large pillow behind you for proper support. Some of the stitching is beginning to fray. In other words, they’re fine.
As a man who doesn’t like to entertain guests and does not really care what family members may think of his home, I was willing to keep that furniture until it literally collapsed with me in it.
So Lisa dragged me by my ear to American Furniture Warehouse off Interstate 25, which was celebrating its 50th Anniversary.
There we walked through a massive showcase of every kind of furniture imaginable. Nothing tickled my fancy, so I spent the time tossing bon mots stage whispers towards my ever patient wife, knowing that the air hangar acoustics allowed our wonderful salesman Oscar to hear them and laugh, with hopes that Lisa would become embarrassed and/or frustrated by my childish behavior and storm out to the car.
It didn’t work. The woman has a titanium backbone, and a will made up of Bob Lazar’s Element 115 (Moscovium). https://vocal.media/history/element-115-bob-lazar-s-alien-fuel-or-just-science-fiction
She has raised ignoring me to an art form.
Anyway, I finally threw myself into an electric leather recliner I was passing hoping it would collapse beneath me.
Instead, it not only caught me with the gentleness of a Mother’s Love, but its reclining mechanism was on the inside of the right arm and it lifted your head if you wanted it to when you had it at full recline. Perfect for hours of Television after the chores were done at Casa Claire. Plus, when fully extended, my feet did not hang over the edge. Nirvana.
Now my wife tried to buy one of those love seats where the two attached recliners shared a center console, with a hidden storage area, but I assured her that if we could not put physical space between us when reclining that foul play could erupt, and there would be no guarantying we would both survive. Although, in a fair fight, my money would be on her.
Realizing that she may have reached her Rubicon, Lisa negotiated for a couch to go along with the separate recliners. I have to tell you that my existing couch remains in very good condition, and was about to engage in heated debate to defend those beliefs, but realized that I had to take the bitter with the sweet and claim the win with two separate recliners, and a matching reclining couch I will never sit on.
But Lisa had to save face, so she flagrantly purchased an overly expensive 8 by 10 carpet to match the furniture out of spite. Although, I did get to draw a few more laughs from Oscar by loudly reminding Lisa of my colorblindness each and every time she asked if I thought a certain rug matched the furniture.
The good news is that, as a result of listening to our live Bronx version of an expletive filled Burns and Allen show –
Oscar then bought a copy of The Wise Ass and promised to tell all of his friends.
But the day was not over and there was still exasperation to be had.
Lisa had kept her threat/promise by booking me an appointment with the mad scientist who has given her bionic eyes.
I swear she is one of the surviving children from Village of the Damned –
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tD3vc9KZ9lQ
I have been pleasantly adjusting to the weird sensation that occurs as my eyes overlap into single vision, and really do not want to break my not going to a doctor in this century record, so I was okay when I was told that there was no appointments until October 24th.
After all, this is what I anticipate from human doctors.
But then I get a text from an AI bot telling me there was an opening yesterday.
Of course, I disregarded its ridiculous demanded response “Prime” (seriously?!) and went for a very human “I’ll be there.”
The AI bot not only chastised me for not replying with its specific safe word, but then afterwards basically told me to piss off.
But it was kind enough to tell me I can keep 10/24.
When I complained to Lisa that I will not go to any doctor with a nasty AI bot, she rescheduled with another Eye Doctor for this Friday.
I can’t win.
Anyway, I guess it could be worse.
But now I have to shift the old furniture into the garage once Lisa decides when to take delivery of the new setting.
Well, my fine, five readers, I hope your world is free of nasty AI bots and undeterrable women.
I hope you can lazily relax in worn and beaten up recliners that have taken years to get just right.
But no matter what else happens this magnificent Hump Day, I hope you make today a great one.
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#AgonyEcstasy