A fool’s errand…and shake it off!

Oh, we found a LOVELY loveseat.  It was gorgeous, and the price wasn’t bad…but…

Here we go again with the measuring, the maneuvering, the LOGISTICS of the whole thing.

Four to six weeks, they tell us, maybe two, but we can’t count on that.  And we won’t.  The risk is too great.  Let me explain…

You have an autistic kid at home, right?  So you KNOW that it’s got to be just right and done in a way that the kid will accept, that won’t offend his/her mysterious sensibilities.  We stood there looking at the lovely loveseat that will comfortably house J’s butt and girth, and it’s quite attractive and we can get it in either the butter yellow or the sea foam green.  It has two throw pillows which, if he doesn’t like them, can be repurposed elsewhere.  It’s ON SALE!!!!  Everything in the store is on sale!  Twenty-percent off!!!!  I try to do the math on the number but start hyperventilating because it’s just how my brain is wired.  But it comes to less than 500 dollars!!!!

(Are you breaking into a cold sweat yet?  I broke into a cold sweat.  I tried to look cool, but less than 500 dollars is still a lot of money…A…LOT…OF…MONEY!)

There’s an ugly purple couch (eggplant, really) and it’s 50% off, which makes it less than 400 dollars.  LESS THAN FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS!!!!  That’s a lot of money still, but this ugly eggplant THING is ready for the taking.  It’s cash and carry…but where would we park it until we move????

Ok…let’s talk this over…

We’ll sleep on it…

The kids are out on an errand and we’re off to grab some Thai food for dinner.  We found a parking spot, and walked to the Thai place.  Let’s order the duck pad thai and the duck emerald curry…  The place is packed.  We haven’t seen the Thai restaurant this packed since the last time we went to pick food up during a football game.  We text the kids and let them know there’s a bit of a wait…and we discuss the couches…

1)  What if we buy the pretty butter yellow or sea foam green one and it’s longer than the four to six weeks for it to get delivered?

Pause.  Silence.  Well…you can hear wheels in mental gear boxes creaking and squeaking.

2)  If we buy the cheaper eggplant, where do we park it until we move???

Pause.  Silence.  The squeak and creak get louder.

“The garage?,” Dada says with half-hope and half-trepidation.  “The Kraken…you’d put the new couch in the garage for The Kraken to destroy it when we’re not looking,” I say, half hoping and half dreading he’ll say “who cares!!!!”

3)  Delivery is not free.

No, it isn’t.  I think that added about $100 dollars to the last time we bought something from them.  Check the website when we get home???  Sure.  HEY!  Maybe we can rent a pick-up truck and pick it up ourselves!  YEAH!!!!  (We’re excited about this prospect.)

4)  Plus the sales tax.  What’s the sales tax on the couches?  I mean: 20% of $469 plus the sales tax, plus delivery…how much is that????  And what about the eggplant one?  It’s 50% off but add the tax and the delivery…

A collective brain cramp seizes us as we try to do math while watching Guy Fieri consuming something he clearly wants us to be excited about but which is not in the least appealing, not even with the sound turned down.

“Your food is special order,” the waiter says, “it will take a little longer with this crowd.  Sorry.”

No problem, we say, we’re cool with that.  It’s DUCK!!!!  (I even say a soft quack, quack that elicits a weird look from the waiter.)

5)  We can always put the big couch in J’s TV room until the new couch arrives.

“A) Would it FIT through the door?,” I ask.  Dada shrugs and says “maybe” in the same tone he uses when I ask him if he thinks the economy will improve during our lifetime.  “B)  What if J decides that’s THE COUCH for the entertainment room and we NEVER get our couch back?,” I say, imagining my lovely couch in a small room with no windows, surrounded by J’s things and J, very much like like Alice’s Caterpillar, comfortably ensconced on top of it and treating me like I don’t deserve to be near his furniture.  “We simply tell him it’s NOT happening and he can’t have the couch!,” Dada says, trying to sound more authoritative than he’s feeling.

More people pour into the restaurant and the head waitress tells us she’s checking the status of our order.  A minute later, she comes up to us with the bag, thanks us for our patience, we tell her we’re just glad their business is doing well, and with a hearty “thank you!” we are on our way home.

I check the receipt on our way to the car and, yes, there are our appetizers (we had THINKING to do…that requires calamari, people!,) our entrees, and here comes the rain…

We wend our way home, occasionally making random comments about the furniture, and when we finally are home and safe and comfortable, we realize half our order (the rice, the curry) are left behind at the restaurant…

“It’s a sign,” Dada says, and he means it.  “Not only was it a special order…it took longer than it had to because there were A LOT OF PEOPLE there, and it’s incomplete…”

I sigh and try to reassure him that we can totally swing this.  After dinner (we share the pad thai and overload on duck,) we come to the basement to look at the delivery or pick-up options.  Delivery is NOT free, of course, but we knew that…so we can pick it up from the distribution center…an hour’s drive away.

We look at each other.  We start laughing, and we recount all the times something has gone completely awry when we’ve REALLY needed it to be timely and just plain right…

A few hours later, I step in the shower and Dada is sitting on the floor talking to me…the list of all that goes awry goes on and on and on, and gets more colorful: the time the Mexican restaurant accidentally charged us $357.43 for two entrees; the time Dada got a traffic ticket because the cop set him up for it; the time we didn’t get to the airport on time, and my ex-husband and his family missed the plane and we had them stay with us for four days more…all seven of us in a two bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and on the list went…

I stuck my head around the shower curtain and said: look, I’ll take any difficulty in finding something for J to sit on in that room in exchange for how shitty the year started for his teeth and how smoothly we resolved it in spite of his anxiety and fears…

We’re getting a beanbag…

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