Simple Chairy Things.

A chair I'd ordered about 2 months ago, arrived today. I had liked the sales person at the store but the first alarm bell went off when she called me back the day following the order placement and said she had messed up on the price and the material was $200 more. I thought about it and phoned her back, realizing everyone makes mistakes and told her to go ahead with the order, I had liked the fabric and design.

I had asked specifically for no rockers on this reclining chair. I had test driven about 20 recliners at the store and I've always disliked rockers, they make me feel off balance and insecure. I do love recliners though and the last time I had one was in the marital home a long, long time ago. I've dreamed of one since but with specific requirements like I should be able to sit and knit in it and have it comfy enough for a nap with the feet up (and no rocking!). I could never quite afford such a creature and checking out second hand ones (I did look) never quite worked out due to smoking households or terrible colours or aforementioned rockers.

So mein very own chair was delivered first thing this morning and the fellahs set it up and whoa Nelly, this beautiful work of art and comfort had rockers. Shyte cubed sez I, and called the shop and found my saleswoman was off on leave of some kind. "You could keep it," was offered unhelpfully. I insisted the fellahs take it back and they supply me with the chair I wanted. There was no apology offered only another unhelpful remark of "this will take a lot more time."

In the way of things and special orders, you'd think this would be pretty straightforward, wouldn't you?

The fellahs muttered as they staggered back out with my chair: "Dealing with E-------(my original sales woman) is like talking to a wall."

I wish she's worn a sign telling me that.

No follow up from the store yet.

And this was not a cheap chair.

I'm oiling up my Toyota machine gun.

Things don't dust themselves, who knew?

It's only when I'm taking things apart to make room for something more efficient, more aesthetic, more utilitarian, that I nearly fall over from the dust that collects behind the books, the files, the cords, whathaveyous.

I can't tell you how many times this has happened in my life. I can't say I get embarrassed, housekeeping has never been my strong suit, but I find myself surreptitiously hauling out a dust-cloth and shoving the dust around. In the old house, the fire was always the distributor of such largesse. Here in the apartment? I could say I burn incense and candles. The problem with my brain is I wonder where the hell this stuff comes from in the absence of fire ash and dog (she was handy also as a dust instigator).

Today I had kinda built-ins arrive from the furniture maker. His photos looked wondrous, his prices excellent but the end product?

Dear gawd, a bit of a shocker as to quality. I was disturbed a bit when he showed up missing some important teeth from his upper jawbone. We talked different languages starting immediately. I questioned the non-finishing of the pieces, it went like this:

"I was under the impression that you would furniture finish the two pieces."

"Ah, you'll have to give them a bit of a wipe to get the sawdust off."

"I don't mean that, if you look at the table here and the chairs, you'll know what I mean."

"No, I don't."

"A reflective finish, fine sanded like this table."

"You don't want that, it destroys the look of the wood."

"I don't think so."

"And I see you didn't use wood filler in the screws or the mistaken screw holes (there were several aborted attempts in drilling for screws) either."

"You might want to take things apart and move screws and you can't do that if they're glued."

"And the side of the desk is the wrong measurement. I scanned you my design."

"It looks fine, I offer a lifetime guarantee on my work."

"I wasn't expecting plywood as a desktop."

"Nice and light to move around."

"But it's permanent in the corner, no moving around."

"Ah, but you might want to move it around."

I gave up. Sometimes you just cut your losses, you know?

I don't want to see him again and frankly, I was a little scared to tangle with him. And I've sucked up my disappointment and adapted my office space and the desk fits nicely in the corner and the pullout keyboard drawer works well, it was his piece de resistance. He couldn't stop demonstrating it.

And oh, yes. Bonus: I dusted.