As I mentioned in the prior post, the LOC* recently decided that his recliner had done its duty by him, and he was ready to let it go retire in the great living room in the sky.
It was not that it was exactly old and worn out; as it was less than five years old, and I had had it regularly professionally steam cleaned. No, rather it was no longer quite as comfy/cozy as he wished it to be. He may think the same thing about me, but I have not yet decided whether to put the question to him. Frankly, I am not sure I really want to know.
The soon-to-be-donated chair had lots of features, to be sure. It vibrated, it heated up, it rocked and of course, it reclined. But it had lost "that lovin' feeling" - it no longer offered that lofty, plush for the tush. Ask me if this guy is spoiled rotten.
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So we betook ourselves to a couple of furniture stores and ended up at the national chain mostly known for whiz-bang, hot-dog, can't live without 'em recliners.
Times had changed, however, and the model that once made my husband's heart go pitter-pat was no longer in vogue. Yep, sounds familiar.
The massage feature, with which he formerly soothed his tired legs and back (or backside) was no longer available. At least not in the color he liked, in the fabric he wanted, in the size he preferred, in combination with the power features he desired.
Oh, please. We are not talking rocket science here; it is a chair for crying out loud.
Finally, he located one that was not too hard, and not too soft, and while it was not necessarily "jussssst riiight" it was apparently as close as he was going to get - so Goldilocks ponied up an amount of money that was more than we paid for a car in years past.
A date was set for the great delivery, and we anxiously awaited the new addition to the family. It came, it went, and the LOC still had no chair. Oh, they brought us one; but it didn't work. We were told that this virtually never happens, but it did. The thing did not go together properly; so they used a little muscled persuasion. Finally he sat in it and tried to recline, and it nearly threw him into the next room. Not good.
So they asked us to sign an affidavit, or some such document, attesting that they had attempted delivery, but that we had declined to accept the product as presented. ( I guess they had to be able to prove that they actually drove the delivery van up the hill and tried to give us the darned thing, rather than having their supervisor think they had been lolling at the lake all afternoon.)
It was, alas they admitted, a manufacturer's defect. Just our luck. But the good news was that it would only be another week, before they could bring a replacement. Great.
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Well, it finally arrived and now sits in all its glory, with its LED lit power-button device always at the ready. It has a power back, a power seat, and a power-foot rest, all of which operate independently of one another.
Oh, and it also boasts a power-lumbar adjustment feature (don't I just wish I had one of those - not the chair, but on me) and a power-headrest. Seriously? A power headrest? Yes.
The LOC used to wrestle a faded blue pillow into this and that shape until he got it just right behind his head. No more. Now with a flick of the switch, the whole hot-dog headrest hums forward and backward -oooh, ooh, another inch forward, no, noooo, just a half-inch back - ahhhh - that's it!
So for just the cost of a small yacht, I am able to discard a worn pillow purchased at K-Mart for $12.99. What a deal!
Of course, this whole acquisition has not been without its challenges, for the poor unfortunate LOC. As he sits royally humming his back forward, and his head backward, and his lower limbs up and down, he gazes over toward me in my - wait for it - my plain Jane recliner and asks archly, "Honey, does it took to you like my feet are higher than my heart?"
I was uncertain as to whether this was something to be avoided or a greatly-to-be-desired result. Thus, I was not sure how to respond to that question.
"You would know better than I", I say with feigned interest.
But one thing I do know, the cost was certainly higher-than common sense would indicate was necessary.
Oh well, what is our life, but a vapor that appears for a little while and then vanishes? Right? At least when his time comes to disappear, he will have known the thrill of a really good recliner. You cannot ask for a whole lot more; and at our time of life, it will have to be enough.
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Hope you have a comfy place to recline this evening. Until next time - Marsha
(*Lovable Old Coot )