Thankful

As I approach my 800 th entry, I reflect that I am very thankful. I am still around to make observations on the human condition. I have a wonderful wife and helpmate. I have lots of supportive family and friends. I have a terrific family that I love deeply. I have a good dog Max, who really perks up when we say, "Good boy, Max."

You never know when humor will pop up either from the human condition or a comment overheard or a clever email. I do wonder how the folks that make a living creating comic strips manage to be so clever and frequently cause one to laugh out loud. I would love to have such a talent.

Recently we tried to replace our recliner chairs with new ones that were craftsman styled. We went to San Antonio and looked in several furniture stores but did not see any that we liked. Then I went to a local store to look some more and found several we might like and later took Foxy after work to get her opinion. We discovered that the store had exactly what we wanted, and so we decided to get the pair. Several days later Gordon and I drove back to the store to pick up the chairs which turned out to be really heavy. On the way back Gordon decided that we needed to get George to help us get them into our coach.

We unwrapped the chairs, removed the backs, and lifted the bottom parts, and they would not go in until I removed the handle by the door we use to not fall either in or out of the coach when entering or departing. Then we moved the passenger seat back as far as it would go, and the three of us managed to twist and turn the bottom half, and finally it was in. The second chair followed, backs re-inserted, and we had our new recliners.

The inside of the coach looked like recliner heaven. We had the new chairs. We had the old chairs. We had the driver's seat and the passenger seat. Now six recliner chairs in our small space was a bit much. Se we talked about what to do with the old recliner chairs.

We could sell them to other work campers, or maybe Don would buy them and use them as needed in the cabins. We could put them into storage except that we are unable to even get into our storage unit. It seems that it is very full. I do like to open the storage unit garage door and look at all of the stuff we have there and wonder where anything is. The answer to that thought is always, "Hell if I know." I guess we will have to get another storage unit. There is something wrong with this picture.

So, we did nothing, just sat in one of our recliners and thought and thought. After sleeping on our problem, we again broached the recliner problem. We finally admitted to each other that we had made a mistake, and since we were still in the five day grace period, we could sent the new recliner chairs back to the store. We drove to the store, explained our decision, filled out the necessary paper work, and agreed to be home on Saturday for their men to come and retrieve the chairs.

Saturday arrived, and we awaited the men. I again removed the handle used to enter and leave the coach. I moved the passenger seat back and waited. The men arrived. They looked like they had been linemen on a local football team in a former stage of their lives. One of them barely fit in our door. Backs of chairs were removed, and instead of the three of us who had brought them in, it only took the two of them to take them out, with a small bit of coaching by me on which way to turn the bottom of the chairs so that they would fit through the door.

All of a sudden our coach was back to normal. We had two fewer recliner chairs. Now we do not have to sell our old chairs, and Max can find his food dish which was hidden behind one of the chairs. We heaved a sigh, sat down, and enjoyed all of the extra room we suddenly had. Then Foxy said, "Do you want to go to the other furniture store and check out their recliners?" What could I say? The question made me think of another question you can not answer and continue to live, "Do these jeans make my ass look big?" There is no answer to that question. We went to the store, of course. Happy travels.