The swan is staying. After waiting a millennium for my return postage sticker and not having the heart to put her in the box, she’s kinda grown on me. As her patina quietly peels, she’s good company since she doesn’t say much and keeps to herself. I also decided, far be it from me to judge a swan with acne. I will accept her as is. And to quote my friend Evelyn, remember, she’s just a fucking bird.
The rugs came, and boy did they. Three of them tightly wrapped like sausage skins taking me over an hour to hack the packaging off. Where’s a machete when you need one?
They are truly beautiful, color of wheat, with an Elizabethan air in their blondness. After freeing them from their kennels planning to roll them out like pizza dough, they were just too heavy to lift. For all my athletic bravado, I have the strength of a wren. Now what, I thought, as I sat on the floor with grass all over the place. Yes, unbeknownst to me, they shed. And to think I was worried about a cat who I could at least brush.
My friend Joan, who’s been my partner in crime during all of this, offered to assist, but it dawned on me, even with two of us, we’d probably end up in traction sniffing Bengay. Maybe there really are drugs weighted slyly into their folds.
Not wanting to enlist the super who was already a bit miffed because the charming, efficient, lazy, I wasn’t home when it happened, deliverymen, dumped the rugs on the curb before taking off, I needed a plan B. I mean, we just might have ourselves some hot carpets here.
So I asked my friend Jacques, a very esteemed architect, if he’d kindly assist. Here was this elegant man pulling and dragging while I was little help. Between not being able to hear his instructions, to my minute muscle tone, Lucy was useless. He took it well, but who knows. He may have gone straight to a bar and is still there.
They look beautiful despite all the trouble and intrigue, and as I’ve been told over and over again, nothing takes place nor arrives the way you expect it to. If these rugs showed up smoking a joint, there should have been no surprise since rumor has it, they’re wanted in 18 states.
The next alleged shipment is the sofa my decorating friends have benevolently given me that’s coming by way of Cuba. You have to hand it to Ethan Allen since they show up even if you hate what they’re bringing. My sofa, on the other hand, is a Ralph Lauren, off-white Damask down-filled super couch. OOH…did you just get a chill? I have visions of it levitating above the carpets listening to Syrian radio.
This concludes Chez Susannah update, but stay tuned, there might be a kilo of chintz en route for slip-covers.