You are currently browsing all posts tagged with 'recliner'.
Displaying 1 - 2 of 2 entries.

Requiem for a sofa

  • Posted on July 1, 2010 at 1:00 am

It was ugly. Not butt-ugly, but…didn’t go with anything else ugly. A dual-reclining heavy monstrosity that was a pain in the behind to clean under. Blue, with peach plaid striping and a pineapple in each square.

The sofa was in the livingroom when I moved back home from Little Rock. Like everything else that has happened in my life, that monstrosity was waiting for me. The armrests were the perfect height for me to rest my pregnancy-swollen ankles on and still keep an eye on Daniel. The dual recliner not only meant that I could change positions, but that Alannah could have a sleepover and they could watch TV and still have a place to stretch out and sleep.

The ugly meant that my heart was not shattered when something inevitably got spilled on it. I blotted the spots dry and every few months I would wield the upholstery attachment on the carpet cleaner, rendering it fresh-smelling and relatively un-stained (though nothing would ever completely remove the stain of my entire cup of coffee splashed across one cushion).

Me sitting on the blue sofa

This is one of the first pictures I ever let Daniel take with *my* camera. That was (is) my favorite position for reading – curled up against the armrest.

Daniel's favorite sick spot

When he was sick, Daniel liked to sit “in my spot”. (Yes, french toaststicks do make it all better, why do you ask?)

(Yes, the sofa was blue. No, I didn’t realize the difference in color tone in the pictures until after I’d started writing. Yes, I’m lazy enough to leave it. Daniel’s pic was taken with a phone cam, we’ll leave it at that.)

Alas, Mama did not love the Blue Monstrosity. It was too big, too heavy, too ughLEE, and didn’t match. (For the record, I agree with ALL of those points.) She declared that it should be relegated to storage and the “new” sofa installed.

I objected, highly. Yes, the sofa is big and heavy and doesn’t match. And my heart doesn’t break when something gets spilled. Yes, it may be YOUR house, but you NEVER spend time in the livingroom and WE DO.

I lost the argument, natch.

Daddy hauled it off one day and replaced it with a nightmare. He told me the Blue Monstrosity was safe, but wouldn’t tell me where it was. He hauled it off before I could clean it and wrap it in plastic, sealed with a kiss. (Smart man. He knew I’d try to bring it back.)

And then the accident happened, and our world was made of upsidasium for a while. We cleaned out The Big House – no sofa. We cleaned out the barn – no sofa. We cleaned out The Little House – no sofa. Finally, we made it to the garage at The Little House. There, standing on end was the Blue Monstrosity.


My heart lept for joy….until I touched the fabric. It has been out there for two years. Yes, it’s been dry…but remember, that sofa needed to be cleaned. I made calls – everyone wants to reupholster it until they find out it’s a double-recliner. Then the price doubles.

Yes, I already have replaced The Nightmare with something more family-friendly. No, I really didn’t have room for the Blue Monstrosity. That’s not the point.

Vaya con Dios, my friend. You were so comfortable, and I miss you.

Just when you thought it was safe…

  • Posted on September 19, 2008 at 3:57 pm

I waved byebye to my sanity about an hour ago. I started writing a brief update at 8am on the fact that it’s Joe’s turn to be sick and that Dan decided that he needed in on some o THAT action. It turned into a snarling bitchy rant about 2 hours ago, so I obliterated it.

Joe is well enough to be obnoxious. Well enough that were Mom in charge he would’ve been sent to school. She doesn’t quite comprehend the “fever-free for 24 hours” rule. It absolutely floored her to find out that his temperature was actually *higher* when he was playing happily than it was when he was curled up in the recliner

Dan….oh my sweet Dan. Dan has postnasal drip and it’s making him (and therefore me) miserable. Every exhale is a whining moan, every inhale is a sniff. His throat is sore, so he’s spitting in the trashcan. He has a loose tooth, so there’s a plethora of spit.

My overstimulation meter pegged about 30 minutes ago. I haven’t been able to read, write, or do any homework.

And now I’m being paged again, so I’ll have to catch up with y’all later.