So, let me set the scene…. Stuart is out of town from Monday to Monday. We got a new recliner and my parents delivered it Tuesday evening right before my two favorite Tuesday shows: Kitchen Nightmares and America’s Got Talent. Perfect timing I must say.
They bring it in, we find the best possible place for it and I was delighted you could still see the TV from the location we chose for the chair. I sit in it and test it out; up and down, back and forth it works great and is a good distance from the wall (so you can take advantage of the whole reclining experience this chair provides.) My parents made sure they were pleased at the position of the chair (bc they didn’t want me moving while they weren’t there) and once they were, they left. So you’re thinking “Well, that’s a good story Whitney, but I don’t see the reason for a blog post. I mean, yes, new furniture is exciting but typically uneventful and not too blog-worthy.” Yes, I agree and if it weren’t for the events that took place afterwards you probably wouldn’t be getting an update on our furniture collection….
7pm my show starts I get the controller (make a note that it was right beside the house phone AND my cell.) So I, the controller, and Francie take our new position for the duration of our 2 hours of planned entertainment. We were happy as two clams.
Then it happens…. The typical every 30 min sudden “my bladder is going to burst if I don’t make it to a bathroom in ten, nine, eight…..” so I politely move my little sleeping poodle and with a big thrust forward with enough momentum to both sit up and push the foot rest down, I sit …. I sit….. I am sitting…. I am thrusting upward with momentum….. I am ….. not moving! I am reclined in protest and about to have a busted bladder to make matters worse. So, I just take a few breaths and think to myself surely SURELY I am not stuck, because there is no way I am calling someone to come across town to help me up. And I was correct… there was no way, remember where I told you the phones were…. Yes, you’re right, across the room right where I grabbed the remote that is of no use or value to me at this moment. So I start a flash back between sniffles and telling myself crying would get me nowhere and neither would coaching either of my dogs (who are on the floor staring at me) to “bring mom the phone.” Smart…. they are. That smart…. They are not. So I have a small flash back to the movie “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.” Yes you know the scene…
Completely forgetting about the sudden urge that got me in this predicament or the shows I had been engulfed in, I tried everything I could possibly think of. Finally, I realized the little sweet angel in my belly had enjoyed the comfort of the recliner so much he had curled into a squirrel size ball and scooched right up under my rib…. Thus, preventing mommy from bending in almost any direction. I calmed down sucked up the tears I came very close to crying gathered my breath I had huffed or puffed out in frustration and turned to my left side and laid there for about 30 minutes. I talked to Mr. Jack almost like I was negotiating with a tiny terrorist holding my ribs hostage. I am sure I promised a pony at some point in our conversation. I rubbed his head/butt (they both feel the same) and asked him politely to move and explained to him how bad he was hurting me and know he would never know the true feeling… but one day he will have a wife and I was sure she would be happy to explain to him that “no, in fact, your mom is NOT a drama queen, and NO, that was not very nice what you did to your mom.” So, this little chat, not working forced me to concede to this battle of epic proportions and I closed my eyes and just relaxed, then just as he snuck under the ribs he snuck out. I got up slowly took a deep breath and was quickly reminded of what started this whole thing and when I returned from the bathroom I nested SAFELY on the couch.
I hope you enjoyed my story, I hope Jack will someday laugh at this story (and apologize), I have no plans of enjoying the chair any further until Stuart gets home… OH and I would appreciate any updates on Kitchen Nightmares and America’s Got Talent because as you probably guessed I didn’t get to watch them.
They bring it in, we find the best possible place for it and I was delighted you could still see the TV from the location we chose for the chair. I sit in it and test it out; up and down, back and forth it works great and is a good distance from the wall (so you can take advantage of the whole reclining experience this chair provides.) My parents made sure they were pleased at the position of the chair (bc they didn’t want me moving while they weren’t there) and once they were, they left. So you’re thinking “Well, that’s a good story Whitney, but I don’t see the reason for a blog post. I mean, yes, new furniture is exciting but typically uneventful and not too blog-worthy.” Yes, I agree and if it weren’t for the events that took place afterwards you probably wouldn’t be getting an update on our furniture collection….
7pm my show starts I get the controller (make a note that it was right beside the house phone AND my cell.) So I, the controller, and Francie take our new position for the duration of our 2 hours of planned entertainment. We were happy as two clams.
Then it happens…. The typical every 30 min sudden “my bladder is going to burst if I don’t make it to a bathroom in ten, nine, eight…..” so I politely move my little sleeping poodle and with a big thrust forward with enough momentum to both sit up and push the foot rest down, I sit …. I sit….. I am sitting…. I am thrusting upward with momentum….. I am ….. not moving! I am reclined in protest and about to have a busted bladder to make matters worse. So, I just take a few breaths and think to myself surely SURELY I am not stuck, because there is no way I am calling someone to come across town to help me up. And I was correct… there was no way, remember where I told you the phones were…. Yes, you’re right, across the room right where I grabbed the remote that is of no use or value to me at this moment. So I start a flash back between sniffles and telling myself crying would get me nowhere and neither would coaching either of my dogs (who are on the floor staring at me) to “bring mom the phone.” Smart…. they are. That smart…. They are not. So I have a small flash back to the movie “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape.” Yes you know the scene…
Completely forgetting about the sudden urge that got me in this predicament or the shows I had been engulfed in, I tried everything I could possibly think of. Finally, I realized the little sweet angel in my belly had enjoyed the comfort of the recliner so much he had curled into a squirrel size ball and scooched right up under my rib…. Thus, preventing mommy from bending in almost any direction. I calmed down sucked up the tears I came very close to crying gathered my breath I had huffed or puffed out in frustration and turned to my left side and laid there for about 30 minutes. I talked to Mr. Jack almost like I was negotiating with a tiny terrorist holding my ribs hostage. I am sure I promised a pony at some point in our conversation. I rubbed his head/butt (they both feel the same) and asked him politely to move and explained to him how bad he was hurting me and know he would never know the true feeling… but one day he will have a wife and I was sure she would be happy to explain to him that “no, in fact, your mom is NOT a drama queen, and NO, that was not very nice what you did to your mom.” So, this little chat, not working forced me to concede to this battle of epic proportions and I closed my eyes and just relaxed, then just as he snuck under the ribs he snuck out. I got up slowly took a deep breath and was quickly reminded of what started this whole thing and when I returned from the bathroom I nested SAFELY on the couch.
I hope you enjoyed my story, I hope Jack will someday laugh at this story (and apologize), I have no plans of enjoying the chair any further until Stuart gets home… OH and I would appreciate any updates on Kitchen Nightmares and America’s Got Talent because as you probably guessed I didn’t get to watch them.
Also, in one final note I would like to add a diclaimer...
*Not all recliners are evil, case in point Pee Wee Herman's Playhouse circa late 1980's
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