To say that LC has an emotional attachment to his recliner is putting it mildly. The man adores his recliner, he climbs into it, puts up the foot rest, his feet wriggling in anticipation of the relaxation to come, he flicks on the remote, oftentimes with a dog in his lap, sometimes both of them, and he’s a happy man.
It’s made of brown distressed leather, and he takes really good care of it, cleaning it regularly with leather cleaner, and after years of daily use, it molds perfectly to his body now. He was a late bloomer to the recliner, not discovering the joy of it until he was well into his 50’s. I’ve never understood the fascination, it’s never been my thing. No Mr. and Mrs. chairs in this household. No Siree…
Well, let me tell you, today the man is totally traumatized, TOTALLY… I was in the living room reading last night, and I heard this desperate animal moan from the den. “Ohhhhh noooooooo,” he wailed, “my recliner broke.” I finish my chapter, my book was far more interesting than investigating a broken chair, I saunter into the den to find him in the floor, the recliner on it’s side, no it didn’t fall over, he frantically turned it over to peer into the guts of the thing. He had his trusty flashlight, his screwdriver, he was feverishly disassembling it, the M&M’s were beside him, lending moral doggie support. “The lever is broken, it just twisted into and broke” he declared, somber faced, his body sagging in defeat.
Well, it was Jan to the rescue, reminding him that his recliner had a lifetime guarantee on it’s parts, so, after spending a restless night, we were off to the furniture store this morning to tell them his sad tale of woe, and lo and behold, they were able to order him a new lever at no charge! It will be here in 9-10 days.
I don’t know how he’s going to survive in the meantime. He may have to take to his bed until he gets it fixed….
Geezy Pete, men are so silly about the strangest things…
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