Not-So-Desperately Seeking a Pony-Holder

Last Friday of the month, people. Last Friday of the month! You know what that means. I took my mom on a ride for my bill-paying purposes. As usual, she had an excellent adventure. No, we did not stop by Arby's. Too many holiday leftovers in Frig. In fact, we kind of rushed through the bill-paying part, except at my credit union, where I was depositing money so that one day, perhaps, The Pony can soak up some higher education. I was momentarily delayed by the clerk asking me through the glass window with the scoop in the counter for money-passing if I knew any business teachers who had seniors looking for a part-time position. Yeah, I have connections. I will pass on that opportunity to somebody in-the-know.

The reason for our rushing was that we were meeting up with Hick for some furniture shopping. We have been needing a new couch for the basement. According to Hick, The Pony has ruined the couch by laying on it playing computer games. Never mind that Hick bought this couch before The Pony was even a gleam in his eye. Before Genius was even a gleam in his eye. Before he even met me and commandeered three of the four pork chops I cooked for supper one night. Yep. A 26-year-old couch, ruined in the last two years by a 15-year-old.

Mom is in the market for a new recliner. She is kind of persnickety about her cushiony comfort. One year we bought her a chair, and she used it until it wore out. But she has Diet Coke wishes and coleslaw dreams. Nothing fancy. She wants a chair to fit her like a glove, and have just the right hip-to-ankle measurement in the footrest. Because I know Mom is unlikely to venture out on her own with furniture-buying in mind, I asked her to join us.

Funny thing. If I wasn't actively in the market for a piece of furniture, but only accompanying someone else, I would most definitely plop myself down near the entrance so they couldn't escape without me, and rest my weary bones and adipose tissue upon some comfy new sofa or wing-back chair. Not so with Mom. She followed us all through the couches, stopping to sit on a few, bounce around, lean back, and declare them firm or soft. She was like a puppy gamboling through a field of butterflies. Her recliners were in another section of the store. I offered to drive her down to that entrance when we were done with couches, but she declined.

Hick and I only saw two couches that appealed to us in the first store. Our requirements were: dark color, firm, no pillowy backs, and reasonable price. We found one for $899 and another for $999. Not that Hick would have paid that. He's a barterer. He's like a car salesman playing the what-if game, but from the other side. Instead of, "What if I can get you in this car today? What if I can get you a set of floor mats? What if I can get a free undercoating? Will you buy this car today?" Hick bandies words concerning delivery vs. pickup, jettisoning the three pillows that we don't really need, observed scratches or loose threads, and the kicker: CASH money.

Nothing really grabbed us, including the salesman. I do appreciate his lack of effort. I do not want to be followed around the store (except by my mom the frisky puppy), or led to items attached to sales bonuses or quick turnover. We left and headed to a smaller store run by the relative of a work colleague. Mom especially wanted to go there, because they carry Ashley furniture. Which might as well be Greek to me, as I am one for going-out-of-business establishments, and second-hand shops.

Huh. The minute we walked in the door, a spry little gal behind the counter called to us and pointed out the couch and recliner areas. Mom parted ways with us, and went to sit a spell in every chair in the place. We meandered around to the back wall, observing plenty of pretty couches to the tune of $1199 and up. Then we saw one. Basic. Four legs, three cushions, two arms. Just the ticket. And the ticket itself was $599. Perfect. Except for the color, a yellow-cream hue, which I knew would not cotton to The Pony's ways.

And there she was! Spry had snuck up on us like Katniss on a meaty mammal. "Do you like this one? I can get it ready. You can take it today. Is this what you're looking for?"

"Well, it is. We just need something for a 15-year-old boy to lay on all day and play computer games. But I'm afraid that color will not do."

"Oh! How do you feel about olive green? We have the same couch up here, in olive green. And we're trying to move that couch. It's a real bargain. Come take a look at it. Sit on it. I think you'll like it."

We went toward the front. There it was. And the tag said $299. Hick immediately said, "I like it." I said, "I can live with it." We each sat down. It was firm. Sturdy. Three cushions long. Had all its feet.

Spry said, "Let's go write up the ticket." No wallflower, she. We told her we wanted it, but that we were going to see now Mom was doing. She was only one row over. Sitting in a recliner. It was a gray-green color. She liked it. She really liked it. She said she might come back and get it next week. Spry was on her like pigs on loaves of Peta's burned bread. Like Haymitch on a cocktail. Like President Snow on an uprising. "Do you want me to take the ticket off of it? So nobody else buys it? Do you want to put down some money today so we save it?"

Mom dug in her heels. "I am not ready to do anything today. But I really like it. I want this chair. Just not today."

Spry was not done trying. "All three of those there are the exact same chair. So even if somebody buys this one, there are the other two. And we have some in boxes in the storeroom. It should be okay. We'll have one like that. It's an Ashley, you know." As if the deal was not already clinched, that cemented it more solidly than Jimmy Hoffa in the NY Giants' end zone.

Mom was adamant. "I want this one. I sat in the other two, and they don't feel the same. This one fits me just right." A regular Goldilocks, our playful little puppy.

Spry talked her into a deposit. It was no big deal, because Mom really wanted that chair. She just wanted it in her own good time. She does not respond well to pressure. However, since she was only putting down a deposit, and controlling the delivery date, she was appeased. So worried was Spry that she blurted, as she ripped off the $319 tag, "I can let you have it for $300!"

Yeah, baby! Cheap furniture! We here in Backroads are all about functionality. It's not like we can drop in and visit Brook and Amy Dubman at Carol House. Sure, we like nice things. But we like cheap things better.

I don't have a picture this evening, but our new basement Pony-holder is kind of the color and texture of a Korean War U.S. Army-issue duffel bag. With cream-colored piping around the cushions and arms. And two big square pillows of light color with a print of circular spores in the same olive green.

Take my word for it: our new couch is breathtaking.