Tuesday, January 26, 2016

Don’t Know Whatcha Got Till It’s Gone

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there's no place like home

It’s funny how we develop emotional attachments to nonliving things. I’m a bit on the sentimental side, so I have several items I cherish. Last night I discovered a rather odd emotional attachment that I never realized I had. I had fallen in love with my recliner, and I had no clue.

This recliner was old and showing it’s age. It was a light suede, so a thorough cleaning was impossible. A ring remained whenever it got damp, and there were plenty left by my long hair when I plopped down fresh out of the shower. There were also several rings where a snack led to a spill and the spill led to a new ring. The seat and back both had indentations. They weren’t really visible, but you could feel them. You get the picture. The chair had seen better days, and it was unsightly. 

I told my husband I had my eye on a loveseat with dual recliners. When someone nearby decided to sell theirs at a great price, he jumped on it. It’s a lovely dark leather. Each recliner rocks independently. It even has the console with a cubby and cupholders between the recliners. It’s nice. It looks a lot nicer than our mismatched recliners. It looks better with the sofa. We can hold hands in the middle, just like we do in the truck. Yes. We are one of those couples. And, no. We are far from newlyweds.

It’s a nice piece of furniture. It really is. But it’s not my recliner. It’s not. My recliner felt like home. It was my comfort zone. It was where I felt safe. It was my sanctuary. I know it’s usually men who balk at the idea of getting rid of their recliner. I know this. Still, I’m having a hard time letting go. It’s a big adjustment, and I never realized just how hard it would be to change where I sit. It’s hard.

My recliner was much more than a well-worn piece of furniture. The seat and back had molded to me. When I sat down and snuggled into it, it was almost like a warm hug. My recliner was oversized, so I never bothered actually reclining. I had plenty of room to sit with my legs crossed. The back was at the perfect angle. I didn’t need to recline to sit comfortably. I had plenty of space to sit with my laptop in that roomy recliner. The arms were generously padded and I could work in comfort. It was pretty much my home office. I haven’t used a desk in years. I always worked in my chair. 

My beloved recliner was also big enough for two. Well, not quite, but we made it work. A kid was often perched on the arm near the wall as we checked out something online. A lot of conversations took place there. We laughed a lot there. Tater Tot would climb up into my recliner and had plenty of room to stretch out beside me without leaving me uncomfortable. We read plenty of books like that. We took some naps like that. She told me (in baby talk, of course) all about her day like that. There is no room for a kid to sit on the arm and engage in a giggle session. There is no room for Tater Tot to cuddle up beside me, although Pappy did inform me that she had her own seat atop the padded console - right between us. That’s not quite the same. It does rock, but it doesn’t rock quite the same. I don’t have room, nor the right rock, to rock sweet little Tater to sleep.

Now that my recliner is gone and I am stuck in this new piece of furniture, I’m missing my chair. I feel lost. The back doesn’t sit at a comfortable angle, so I have to recline. The recliner doesn’t have the padded footrest like my recliner had, so it’s odd. I’m not heavy enough to keep the stiff back reclined at the right angle, either. I don’t really have room to sit cross-legged comfortably. My laptop has to sit at an awkward angle, and I shudder to think how this is going to affect the pinched nerve in my neck. I had that well taken care of in my recliner. The power cord for my laptop is on the wrong side, too. I’ve spent time whining that I can’t work like this. I have. 

I will readily confess that I do not like change of any sort, but I wasn’t prepared for this. I feel completely out of sorts. I’m sure I will adjust over time. I know I will. But for now, I’m grumpy. How grumpy am I? I’m grumpy enough that I wrote this long post about missing my old recliner. I’ll be fine. I’ll eventually find some way to be half-way comfortable while I work, but it won’t be as comfortable as my recliner. I’ll find a way to make it work for reading to Tater, but it won’t be quite the same. I’ll adjust to it over time, but I won’t be as happy as I was with my comfortable recliner. Right now, I’m feeling homeless. My chair felt like home, and now it’s gone. It has been replaced by this cold reclining loveseat. I feel too confined in this regular-size recliner. I feel...I could go on, but I’m probably starting to sound loony. I mean, all this hoopla over a chair, right? I miss my chair. Maybe Tater will like it.



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