COUCH WARS

I feel like the most adult thing we did this weekend was not dropping $5,000 on a new couch. In fact, I am so proud of ourselves for coming to the conclusion so quickly that we probably deserve a trophy. I mean, we told the sales clerk that we needed to go home and remeasure the space and that we’d be back the next day and at the time of saying that, I truly meant every word. Then once we were back in the truck, we both realized at the same time that we did not need a $5,000 couch. But we do need a couch. It is this desperation of need that drove us to even considering a $5,000 couch in the first place.

At the end of July, when our estimated delivery date for the new couch was pushed back to November 30th, I thought “Okay…we can move the futon up from the basement and sit on that until November.” It’s been 1997 in our living room ever since and it did not take long for the two of us to realize that we no longer have 1997 bodies for sitting on 1997 cheap furniture. Once you’ve experienced a couch with armrests, there’s no going back to seating options without armrests. No one is comfortable. Josephine and the cat are the most comfortable with this seating arrangement but that is only because they are laying on me. I could handle all of this if the couch was truly going to arrive on the 30th, but oh no. Friday, I received a new notice of estimated delivery. This one’s for February of 2022 and I feel like this is unacceptable. At this point I don’t even remember what the new couch looks like or feels like. Did we consider all of the things when we sat on this couch in the showroom back in March. BACK IN MARCH! I don’t remember what I ate for dinner on Friday. How am I supposed to remember how comfortable a piece of furniture that I sat on eight months ago is or isn’t?

Wait…I had Thai fried rice for dinner on Friday.

I’m not senile. I’m an adult. I am an adult that has acquired a certain level of standards. That might not mean a $5,000 couch, but it does mean a comfortable affordable couch. So, Michael and I are preparing to play the field with all of the furniture stores. Next weekend, I will medicate myself and then we will drive out to the big furniture mart and sit on all of the couches. It must be comfortable for both us. It must be made of durable, pet friendly materials. And this part? This next bit? It must be in stock or a guaranteed delivery date of two weeks. No more of that estimated delivery bullshit. Because I deserve nice furniture. This is the most important realization from the whole couch experience. I am no longer a poor college student or recent graduate. My student loans have been paid in full. I have automotive insurance that I have been paying on for years and have been so responsible that I did not have to meet a deductible when I filed the loss of V. I have always been (mostly) responsible, but now I have become more financially responsible in ways that I most definitely was not when Chris was alive. My furniture no longer has to be found on the curb or handed down from a family member and my furniture can come pre-assembled.

Because I am a grown up, dammit!

Anyway…that’s what I keep telling myself. Eventually it is going to stick and I might actually believe it. Right now, it’s become a mantra for why I deserve a good couch.

SOMETIMES I AM A GROWNUP

We installed a white noise machine for the chickens.

The refinance on my house went through right before everything shut down for the pandemic. The plans were to use that money to pay off some credit card debt and maybe spend a little on some home improvement. Then came the moment when everything shut down and there were concerns about job security. So Michael suggested we just let that money sit for a little bit. We paid down a few credit cards. We put some money into building the retaining wall and mulch. The rest has just been sitting in savings.

We have been talking about putting AC in this house for years. When Chris and I moved in here, it did not even dawn on us that there was not an AC unit. Warmer temperatures arrived and I just flipped the thermostat over to ‘cool’. When nothing happened, I called our landlord, who was great but a little squirrelly. He told us that there was no AC, but he’d bring us over a window unit. The day he brought over the window unit was also the day he told us that the had to sell this house. That one window unit has been cooling most of the house for the last nine years. Michael added a window unit to his bedroom when he moved in and I sleep with a fan on. It is not the most efficient method for cooling, but the money involved in replacing our current system just seemed overwhelming. Michael’s had too much time to stare at the spread-sheet he built for our bills and budget.Well, Michael’s had a lot of time on his hands since he finished the wall. It looks the chalkboard from A Beautiful Mind. It is color coded. After some ‘hmmm’ and ‘args’ and days of looking at his computer, Michael said “Maybe this is the year we finally instal a real AC unit and replace the old furnace.”

So, we called a recommended company, got a quote and signed a large check. This is probably the third most grownup adult thing I have ever done. I know some people are rolling their eyes at this and thinking “it’s just an AC unit, Cindy.”, but hear me out. It is not just about installing an AC or replacing the old furnace before it dies in the middle of winter. We are doing this without financing or monthly payments. We are doing this while we have the money to do it. Instead of being tempted to use that money for something stupid like a beach vacation, we are using it wisely. That is the grownup adult part. That is the part that is making me question my identity. Who the Hell is this person?!? I am normally the one who just ignores whatever is broken and hope that it will magically fix itself. Ceiling is caving in? I don’t really need a ceiling any way. That is my usual approach to all things regarding home ownership. Fifty percent of our arguments involve the lint trap on the dryer and it is me that is on the wrong side of that argument. I would never make it past the first day on a bomb squad because I would just let the bomb explode. I am not proactive. So I feel as though I am deserving of sort of achievement sticker. A gold star for adulting. Make that two gold stars because before the AC guys left, we scheduled an appointment for them to come back in October to turn on our humidifier (y’all, I have a humidifier for the whole house; what the what?!?!). At the same time they will replace the water heater that is currently propped up on two rocks (actual rocks) and may be leaking carbon monoxide into the basement.

Despite the large sum of money we are spending, we are giddy with the what a central AC unit means for us and this house. I will no longer have to sleep with my bedroom door open at night or sleep on top all of the blankets. I may even have to add a blanket to the bed if Michael gets his way. I am sure we will still be fighting over the thermostat settings, the age old accusation of “Did you just touch the thermostat?!” rumbling from Michael with my bold face lie of “no” coming quickly in reply, even while my finger hovers over the button. He has threatened to instal a lock box on the thermostat. His threats are empty ones, but I will no doubt be wearing a sweater in the house during the summer months. The thermostat is currently set at 72 and we both seem to be comfortable enough for now. It is a little odd to not hear the window units. The one in Michael’s room has recently started making wet noises. I can’t wait to set that one out on the curb today.

WHEN WE KNOW EVERYTHING

Today the Cabbage turns four. She's been talking about her birthday party at Chuck E Cheese's for almost a year now. If we were in the car passing a Chuck E Cheese, she'd say "Hey! You know that place? That's Chuck E Cheese and I get to go there for my birthday." The last few weeks have been a count down of sentences that start with "my birthday". Last Wednesday we were sitting on the couch watching Peppa Pig. As the Cabbage stared at the TV with that glassy eyed zombie stare that kids get sometimes, she said "When I'm four, I will know everything.". Michael said "Oh yeah? What's three plus three?" and without missing a beat or turning her eyes from the TV, the Cabbage replied "six". Michael and I looked at each other over the top of her head with eyes wide in surprise. Maybe she will know everything. 

I'm sure we all reached an age where we thought that this would be the year that all knowledge and wisdom would be bestowed upon us. Your fairy godmother would show up and bippity boppity boo, you would not only know everything, but you'd finally be tall enough to ride that crazy roller coaster at the amusement park. I'm not sure I ever really had that clarity. I knew that nine was an important birthday because that's when Mom said I could get my ears pierced. Sixteen is always big because of the whole driver's license thing except I didn't really know how to drive when I turned sixteen. The driver's license didn't come to me for another five or six months after turning sweet sixteen. Then comes eighteen when they tell you that you are now an adult. You get to vote, but you're still not old enough to buy beer. I was so nerdy that I couldn't wait to vote. My parents had been taking me with them to the polling place my whole life and finally I was old enough to get that "I voted" sticker for actually voting.

Twenty one is the birthday where someone buys you twenty one shots and you spend the late hours of the night puking your guts out and eating greasy diner food at three in the morning or Taco Bell. Except, I didn't do this either. I went to a twenty one and over dance club and bought a fuzzy navel. It didn't taste all that great and the whole using my id to buy alcohol for the first time was anticlimactic. If I ever thought that I knew everything, my twenties would be the years that I learned that I knew nothing. I think I believed that when I turned thirty, I may not know everything, but I'd finally be a real live grownup. Up until then, I'd only been pretending to have a clue as how to negotiate the dance floor of adulthood. My thirties have definitely been my "I am now an adult!" years. I've done my most grownup of grownup tasks like buying a lawnmower and a house. I held my husband's hand through a crushing diagnosis and death and then I took care of all the things that follow the loss of a spouse. I fixed that lawnmower when it broke down. I took on a relationship with a man who has a kid. I have a car seat in my car. 

But being a grownup doesn't mean you know everything either. Maybe when I'm forty? Fifty? One hundred? I predict that in my last breath, in that very last fleeting moment, I will know everything. Part of the charm of life are the new things learned daily, the adventure of discovery. You can't tell a four year old that knowing everything is over rated though. You can't tell them that one of the great joys of life is learning or that we continue to make new discoveries every day like the plate tectonics on Europa. Instead, you just nod your head and say "that's great!". But for the Cabbage, my wish for her would be to not know everything, just want to know everything.