Okay. Who in the hell decided that it would be a fantastic idea to put cup holders into recliners and sectional sofas? And I'm not talking those cheap, fake leather sectional things. I'm talking expensive shit here. Could anything possibly say, "We're Americans!" with more brass and sass than buying thousands of dollars worth of living room furniture that has cup holders in it?
Well, anyway. We bought nothing but lunch and lunch was delightful. It occurred to me that we had chosen this one day to shop for two things which are found in stores where people working for commission rush you at the door.
"Can I help you? My name is George (Irene, Gupta, Maggie, whatever)." Handshake. As if to let us know that this was not to be just a business transaction but a real and true relationship!
"Uh. Where are your dishwashers?"
"Let me show you!"
And then the dog and pony show would commence and doors would be opened, the decibel levels of the various machines would be bragged about (some dishwashers are apparently so quiet that when they are operating, they emit a beam of light so that you know they are actually on!), racks were pulled in and out to demonstrate their smoothness of glide, their functionality.
And, well, that about covered it. I mean, how much is there to talk about dishwashers?
"Does this come in black or only the stainless steel?"
It almost all boils down to whether or not you want to support local business and pay extra but be assured of personal service or buy at one of the Big Places and get it cheaper and have to deal with the service you get. And of course, the salesperson is going to be local no matter what so there is that too.
Again I say, "Ay yi."
And since I'm going to have to clean out a cabinet and make room for this machine and Mr. Moon is going to have to do some carpentry and plumbing to make a place for it, this is not an urgent decision. Not like a washing machine gone to hell or a refrigerator or stove. We've been washing dishes by hand for over ten years and it hasn't killed us yet.
So we haven't really made a decision, much less a purchase.
After we hit the appliance stores, we commenced onto the furniture stores. I have no idea what it is that I really want except something to sit/recline on to read with room enough for pillows and a grandchild or two which is not as big as a sofa. Something cozy. Something pretty. Something NOT beige or brown or leather. This seems to be an unobtainable object. Perhaps it's not the big chair and ottoman that I really want. Perhaps I want a chaise longue. But the fact of the matter is, I saw nothing which pleased me esthetically at all and only one thing that was halfway comfortable and I have to tell you that was leather.
Jeez. I thought it was going to be so easy.
I'm just not used to buying new furniture. I've always either inherited my furniture or bought stuff from thrift stores. Or antique stores in a few situations. I even bought a chaise once at a thrift store and I do still have it but our dog Pearl had a bad habit of digging caves into furniture and she dug a cave into that piece as well and I'm sorry, it is just ugly and I have it in my office with an old bedspread on it and a pillow in the crater she made. The most interesting thing about it, besides the hole, is that the back upholstery was attached very cleverly with velcro, making me wonder if it had been someone's hiding place for their stash. Unfortunately, I did not find a pound of cocaine in it which would have financed a decent piece of furniture.
But, we never got cranky. I didn't even get cranky when Mr. Moon spent approximately 35 minutes returning a bird feeder. I did a crossword and read part of a New Yorker. And having lunch in the middle of all of that helped. I took Mr. Moon to Ted's Montana Grill and he liked the place a lot although he was a bit horrified that a hamburger could cost $17. Well, la-di-dah. It was a bison burger and had horseradish cheddar and mushrooms on it and it's about the best thing I've ever eaten so whatever. I'd much rather eat one of those every year than eat a Wendy's hamburger EVER so in my mind, with my logic, it all makes perfect sense.
And may I repeat once again that it's a good thing I married that man because if I hadn't, I'd be living in a van down by the river and would not even be able to entertain the idea of buying a chaise longue for the library, much less a dishwasher.
And now we're home and will be eating various leftovers for our supper. There's fish and there's black-eyed peas and some of my husband's lunch which he did not finish although I ate every bite of mine. And one of us will wash the dishes and that will be fine. I told my husband the other day that if he put a window in over the sink, I really wouldn't need a dishwasher and he laughed. But that would require an electrician as well as carpentry work because the breaker box is right where the window would go. Cheaper to buy a dishwasher.
And so it goes in the life of a sixty-year old woman on one day in the beginning of a new year. I am excited and thrilled that same-sex marriages will legally commence in my state starting this week. I'd give a lot to know who the first same-sex couple will be to walk into the Jefferson County courthouse in Monticello to procure a marriage license. Will it be the guys who live down the road from me who fly the rainbow flag and who have loved each other through thick and thin, illness and health, for a long, long time? Will it be two women I know who have stood by each other for most of a lifetime who have rainbow colored rings tattooed on their ring fingers on their left hand?
Golly. It's exciting. I read in the paper that a Tallahassee Unitarian minister has four marriages lined up in her church for the day gay marriage becomes legal. And guess what? I officiated at a marriage ceremony there many, many years ago for two women and they are still married (although not legally, as far as I know) and I'll never forget the titty cake served at the reception.
And I will tell you this- as backward in many ways as this county I live in is, the motto over our beautiful old courthouse is Suum Cuique, which is Latin for Each To His Own.
To each his or her own. Amen.
You want cup holders in your sofa? Go for it, baby!
You want to marry the person you love?
I give you my blessings and apologize that it's taken this damn long.
Time to go heat up the black-eyed peas.
All love...Ms. Moon