My husband deserves some sort of medal. Not only has kept me for almost twenty-five years, he’s also managed to keep his sense of humor.
Well, most of the time anyway.
I think he’s currently searching for it after yesterday, but I’m confident that he’ll find it.
Some women bring home stray children -- others stray animals. I’ve done both. In addition, I have perfected the art of procuring stray furniture. Furniture that doesn’t have anyone who really wants it pulls at my heart strings.
In my defense, I’m collecting only because we need to furnish a couple more rooms in the remodeling of our home.
Last winter in the snow and ice, hubby and I scored a load of great wood storage pieces. I need storage, I crave it. And I have a wall all picked out for this huge conglomeration of wooden hidey-holes. My husband, a carpenter, has a soft spot for fine furniture, so we left smiling. Of course, he smiled less as we puzzled-pieced the furniture into the shed, but I’m confident he will love the look when it’s all installed in the proper room.
The rooms needing furnished are in the painting stage, so my quest has intensified. A co-worker, the poor girl who is building, see previous post http://kellyklepfer.blogspot.com/2006/06/scribbles-and-scrambles-i-packed-food.html, offered me a leather couch -- free for the hauling.
If there is anything I love more than storage furniture, it would be free furniture.
Free is a relative term, I’ve noticed.
We set out to bag our couch yesterday, one of the warmest days of summer. “Kind of a nice contrast to the last furniture run in the bitterness of winter,” I suggested to my husband. He offered a tight smile. Not a good sign.
Interestingly, there were two couches, in great shape. So I rubbed my hands together and clamped down on the vocal glee. My husband shot me the look. I hunkered down on my end of the big soft couch and we headed for the door…I pushed, he pulled. Nothing happened.
That’s when it got fun. To be continued…..
Change. I've learned to embrace it, ride it out til the end. Sometimes I'm kicking and screaming, other times weeping with my eyes clinched tight. Once in awhile I ride like a dog in a car, head out the window snorting what life has to offer. Mother to young adult children, a marriage of thirty years, and a desert to mountain to valley waltz with God have shaped me into someone I never imagined I'd be. Life is short and I want to live it. Tears, sighs, laughter and change. Every morsel granted to me. Scrambled, shaken or stirred.