All in all, I'm just furniture. . . .

July 26, 2011


8.00 am

Sitting here waiting for the contractors.

Again.

Hoping that I'll see their truck pulling into my driveway soon.

Instead of hearing the phone ring, announcing that they're not coming.

Again.

I understand how come they didn't come yesterday.

After the thunderstorms and rain we experienced on the weekend, there were several Monday morning "emergency" calls to our restoration contractors.

Spreading them thin.

Too thin they couldn't get here, apparently.






After waiting for an hour, I called them to see if they're coming.

Nope.

Because they're waiting to hear from the insurance adjuster.

About what I don't know.

I assumed that they had go ahead for everything before they started ripping down ceilings and knocking out walls.

Because if they didn't. . . .




For some unknown reason, the camera, (my camera) the one we purchased for Stephen for Father's Day, is malfunctioning.

A reddish tinge to the photo screen.

Pictures looking like I've taken them through the backdoor screen.

Ask me how upset I am about this.

What am I supposed to do now, when out for walks, or when I am feeling so frustrated that my head feels like it's going to spin off my shoulders. . .

Right now it's at Black's Photography waiting to be sent off for repair.

Something about a sensor.

Like I would know.

She could have told me the camera was suffering from some heretofore unknown mechanical disease that afflicts camera and other kinds of video equipment, and I wouldn't have batted and eye. 

As we've had it a little over a month, I am positive it'll be covered by the warranty.

In fact I know it will.

Because if it isn't. . . .



All is not in a state of calamity, however.

Stephen found my cell phone.

It's been MIA for about three weeks.

I only noticed it was missing about ten days ago.

Clearly, then, I wasn't missing it that much.

No ring tones announcing a child on the other end requesting a drive here or a pick up there.

Or wanting me to deal with some crisis or other that I don't want to deal with.

At the same time a niggling thought in the back of my mind that I'm paying for something I can't use was making itself more and more present. 

When I walked into the house yesterday after taking Keith to work, and Stephen announced that he'd found the phone under my side of the bed, I was quite happy.

And annoyed.

Because I had already looked there.

Figures I'd look and not see it.

Stephen would and it'd be there waving at him.

Screaming help me! Save me! Release me from this dog hair infested hell!

Well, as dog hair infested as Stephen allows anything in this house to be.






In light of the new living room walls, new paint, Stephen seized the opportunity to resume his campaign for new-to-us living room furniture.

This campaign has been a bone of contention between the two of us.

Him wanting to replace our third hand couch and loveseat set.

Me happy with it.

Now, my happiness could be more the result of complacency rather than actual happiness.

I'll admit that.

But complacency is comfortable and I'm not all that excited about the hunt for new furniture.

Stephen, on the other hand, is overjoyed.

Any excuse to peruse Kijiji, be it for furniture, antiques, old cars, he loves the hunt for something new-to-us, or as I recently heard, "nused."

And he found something.

A pine loveseat.

Reasonably priced.

Very close to where we are.

And a much nicer version than the no-springs, ripped cushions, dog hair ingrained loveseat currently residing in our contractor owned storage place.

The loveseat where I would cuddle up with Frankie for a night of watching back-to-back episodes of Billy the Exterminator.

But loving something and the functionality of that something are inherently different things, so when the living is ready to be returned to rights, the loveseat won't be returning.

Nor will the couch.

But not because it isn't usable.

Mer is bringing with her a new couch that she has graciously consented to allow us to use while she resides in our abode.

So we are in the process of locating a new home for our old couch.

And planning for the purchase of a new couch for the time when Mer moves back out on her own.

Because she isn't living here, with us, forever.

No matter what she thinks. 


Title Lyric:  Furniture by Amy Studt