A week ago this last Saturday, I was in the kitchen (because where else would I be?) when an anguished wail came from the general direction of our family room. I poked my head around the corner and saw Beloved on his knees, in front of his ancient recliner, weeping gently over the springs which had apparently been mortally sprung.
I sighed…I knew this day was coming. The poor recliner had been ailing for some time; we had, in fact, done some emergency surgery on him not too long ago when one of his springs snapped, in the way of a couple of clamps Beloved had purchased at Home Depot. I was not aware, however, of the scope of the damage – along with the aforementioned clamps, there were now wires, twist ties, and was that one of my pot holders under there??
Before I could comfort him, Beloved came to his feet, looked me dead in the eye and said, “We’re buying a new recliner. Now.”
Not one to argue with a recliner-less man – I have a reasonably developed sense of self-preservation – I gathered up my purse and 10 minutes later My Better Half was happily caressing leather upholstery and trying out foot rests at the Lazy Boy showroom.
Now, our home is decorated in cream, green and gold, with burgundy accents, mostly because of that very recliner. It is hunter green and I knew it would be a permanent fixture, so I just sort of decorated around it. Which honestly wasn’t hard, since green is my favorite color. However, while hunter green was popular in the 90s, I dare you to find any furniture that color these days: literally everything in the Lazy Boy showroom was brown, maroon or taupe (blech). Our inquiries into the matter only confirmed what I already suspected; yes, we could get the recliner of our choice in a hunter green, but it would take at least 10 weeks and significantly raise the price.
After wandering a little more and trying out several chairs (including one that could have housed a small immigrant family and cost a small fortune), Beloved settled into a chair that was more-or-less burgundy (the swatch on the chair was labeled “Cabernet”).
“Oh, this is nice,” he said. I looked at the price tag – it was on sale. It was, in fact, half off.
“We’ll take it,” I told the sales lady.
“Don’t rush, don’t rush,” he said. “Here, you sit in it.”
Now, there is some validity to his request. You see, I spend a fair amount of time in the recliner when Beloved isn’t in it. Aside from our bed, it is my favorite place to sleep – he’s snoring and I can’t get him to roll over? I’m in the chair. My sinuses won’t drain if I’m in a prone position? I’m in the chair. I simply can’t sleep and don’t want to keep him up with my tossing and turning? I’m in the chair with my Kindle. So I sat in it.
And it was the most comfortable chair I’d ever parked my fanny in.
I looked at Beloved and said, “We’ll take it.”
“Great!” he replied. “Let’s get two!”
The sales lady, who looked as if she’d just reeled in the biggest
sucker fish of the season, said, “You know, I believe we have that very chair in that very color here in our warehouse, and can have the other delivered by the end of next week!” and feverishly began filling out paperwork.
Again, his suggestion to purchase two (which were, after all, half off) had some validity. You see, he can’t sit in his chair if I’m sleeping in it, and if I had my own chair, well, that problem would be solved, now wouldn’t it? Our furniture is also kind of old and while our loveseat is in good shape (mainly because no one really ever sits in it), the sofa – which is an incredibly comfortable sofa, as anyone who has ever sat on it (including the dog) will tell you – is showing many signs of wear and tear. So, after a short discussion on the logistics of just where we’d put two recliners, I acquiesced, and to give me credit did not even flinch when we handed over our
first born American Express.
We could take the recliner in stock that day if we could provide transportation for it, and the other could be delivered the following Friday after our return from Hocking Hills (for a mere $69), so Beloved called his father and asked if we could borrow their van. The next thing I knew, we’d made the 20 minute drive to my inlaw’s house, left them our car, taken their van – from which my father-in-law had considerately removed the seats – and picked up the new recliner…which meant Beloved wouldn’t have to go one single day without putting his feet up while he napped through all of his favorite television shows.
And that’s what’s really important, isn’t it?
While the new recliner was being loaded into the van, Beloved turned to the sales lady and asked, “What’s the warranty on this?”
“Lifetime on the parts, one year on the labor,” she replied. A strange expression passed over his face, but I didn’t think much of it. But when we got home, Beloved made a bee-line to the old recliner.
“That’s what I thought,” he muttered.
Yes, the old recliner is a Lazy Boy.
He called the showroom, and discovered they could fix it for less than $100, and it would take less than a week.
We unloaded the new recliner and loaded the old one into the van and drove back to the Lazy Boy showroom.
We cancelled the order for the second recliner.
We took the van back to my inlaws and thanked them.
We went to Hocking Hills and played many games, ate much barbecue, drank much wine and lounged a great deal in the hot tub.
We came home and picked up the newly repaired chair, which cost a whopping $42.
And that, friends and neighbors, is how I got a brand new Lazy Boy recliner.