On Buying A Recliner

Dad’s recliner gave up the ghost so I was tasked to buy him a new one. I looked up some furniture stores online and picked out a Lazy-Boy shop not far from home.

I stupidly arrived an hour early on a Sunday morning and thus had an hour to burn. I drove to a nearby Goodwill and perused the books. I bought Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell and A History of The PeloponnesianWar by Thucydides.

Back to the Lazy-Boy show room. I still had 15 minutes to kill. The sex shop across the road boasted a banner that read: Give the Gift of Orgasm, but it was closed, too. So, I opened up Thucydides and started reading. It occurred to me that I was probably the only person in the history of recliner-buying who read Thucydides in the vicinity of a sex shop while waiting to buy a recliner.

The doors opened! I closed the book and entered the store. I was immediately met by an elderly white-haired man who asked how he could help me. I told him I needed a new and basic recliner for my old man and I didn’t want WI-Fi or cup-holders or space age fabrics or a remote control to operate it. I wanted a lever and two settings and I didn’t want to spend more than $500.

He said he understood. He directed me to follow him. Ten minutes later I closed the deal and was surprised how pleasant the experience turned out to be.

Delivery was set for Wednesday. I’d put the old recliner on the sidewalk and doubtless a day later I’d see a resident of the nearby homeless encampment relaxing in it. (That was a joke. It’s going to the dump.)