I'm going stark raving mad. Considering that my life revolves around getting my spouse and child up ready to live their lives, I think my occasional attempts to escape for a few hours are well grounded.
Once in awhile, I make hopeful attempts to meet up with a friend and purposely not invite my five year old appendage, I mean daughter, Lanes or her strong willed father, P. Last weekend, I was supposed to meet up with a friend and gasp, take in a movie. Yes, I was dreaming big.
That means two hours at least of my life, I'll be sitting down without the option of multitasking. Alas, I had to cancel at the last minute because I had to supervise P at a furniture store.
He has finally pushed me over the ledge--nearly literally. As I mentioned last week, after a tango with the flu, he came out of his phlegm soaked stupor to announce that he wants to add another sofa and bed to our already cramped apartment.
I made a futile attempt to assuage my fears that we will be living on the balcony to accommodate this. Once there, we would be flanked by the dust and pollen coated bike and BBQ grill that P acquired on similar flights of fancy. They are unloved and unused and destined for a scrap yard somewhere.
Any old how, I have no concept of space, quantity or time and I agreed to a couch that to my eyes, looked tiny in the warehouse store. I was rather mesmerized by the big patterned cushions that came with it and didn't think much of all this until this Friday.
On that day, I was kicking off anyone who called off the phone, in case the delivery people called as they promised faithfully to show up between noon and 5pm. Eventually, at about 6.30pm, I guess they were on Hawaiian time, they showed up.
After much ado, a very large love seat was placed in the middle of our living/dining room (because it's one room). It stuck out like a sore thumb and it was painfully obvious we would have to move around the two couches we already had to accommodate this one.
P was fussy about where each sofa was placed and how the carpet was 'off center'. I am normally the anal retentive one, but for the sake of saving on chiropractic bills, I was willing to let it go. In the end, with all the rearranging it looked like the Incredible Hulk went on a rampage in our apartment.
As usual, P had the 'can do' attitude and was determined to get the apartment just right. I was sitting there wishing I had magical powers, complete with a cape and wand, to lift pieces furniture and thereby make our lives easier. That's why he is the practical one with a job and I'm a penniless writer.
I was fearful of large chairs and sofas falling on Lanes, who of course decided to squirrel in here and there and cause undue stress to my maternal instinct to protect and serve. The hallway was blocked by the bed and box spring he ordered, and my head was pounding.
Lanes, always the voice of reason whenever she is not having a soap opera moment, pleadingly looked at her father and said 'daddy, no more furniture ok? There are three sofas and three people in the house so we don't need anymore because there is no room in our apartment!'. That's my girl!
P forged on, as he tends to do when he is on a mission, and he managed to sort out the living room and fix up the second bed for Lanes' room all in one night. In his hurry, he did leave some metal parts jutting out of Lanes' bed, and I found that out the hard way twelve times the following day.
I spent the greater part of the next morning rearranging Lanes' room and scratching my calves on that darn metal thing. It's a good thing my tetanus shots are updated. I think.
That being said, right now P is giving me lectures about looking at dates before buying milk and Lanes is echoing his sentiments. With that I must sign off so I can jump on a couch and distract my family from their issues with dairy products. Happy belated Canadian Thanksgiving! More musings from BC next week…
What movie were you supposed to see?
ReplyDeletePenniless now, perhaps, but not for long!
SR
Ah, the hallowed "delivery timeframe," that device by which delivery men may absolve themselves of any adherence to timeliness or responsibility in the name of base-covering. (See also - cable repairmen, gas men, anybody in the service industry.) The kicker is that there's always a delivery charge, so in paying that charge you're paying for the delivery but you're also validating or cosigning an inevitable lateness. And, yep, you can expect them to show up after they were supposed to - unless you assume that they'll be late and go to the park or something, in which case they'll turn up ultra early. Life isn't fair, but if it were, what would we have to write about? :)
ReplyDeleteSR