Monday, April 28, 2008

Notes on a Chair -Marcia

My mother is coming this Thursday. It could be a quick visit, just long enough to hear Daniel’s chicken-sneeze solo in the Discovery Chorus concert at the Craterian this weekend. Or, it could be something longer... Depending on whether or not we’ve improved our standard of living. She let my husband know on the phone one night that her decision would be based on the state of the boys’ bedroom. She did the makeover when she was here in October, and it damn well better look as good as it did when she left. So the hefty bags are out, the garage is being fully utilized, and the spring air smells like Mr. Clean Organic Orange spray.

In a more recent phone call she announced that she purchased an armchair for us. It was a deal too good to pass up.

“It goes perfectly in your front room,” she said.
“Mom, I have two couches in my front room.”
“Well this one goes in the front room. It has green and blue flowers."
“I already have a green and blue flowered chair.”
“We’re going to repaint that front room. This will go perfectly.”
“Mom.” (It’s taken me eight months to recover from the boys’ room project.)
“I’m bringing it up for one of you then. You and your sister can fight over it.”

Always a healthy suggestion.

Two days later she calls again and states that she has just finished redecorating HER front room instead. She is keeping the flowered chair and bringing the blue and white striped one for me.

“If it was good enough for my grandmother, and good enough for me, then it will definitely be good enough for you.”

So...we are getting a new armchair--one to go with the other two that don’t match anything in the house. I had a nice Queen Anne style out on the patio so long it rotted. I threw away the body and kept its pretty wooden feet. The thing is we live in an 1800 square foot ranch house. You can’t just squeeze a big old armchair in anywhere. It’s like trying to force a puzzle piece, you jam it and the whole thing buckles up and comes apart.

So writing this week is not a possibility, I am far too busy moving bookshelves, pushing end tables around, making room for an overstuffed blue and white striped chair, and trying to achieve perfection...all before my mother arrives.

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