Well, it looks as if I’m not getting the furniture I was promised. Let’s just say, something strange happened on the way to the truck.
The renowned Damask sofa, fresh from the cleaners, is still lolling in the warehouse refusing to come out. My friends, who were giving her to me, staffed its delivery to a woman working for them who apparently has better things to do.
Call me crazy, but if you work for someone who gives you a task, don’t you graciously, or in this case, resentfully, execute it? When I mentioned this, the bottom fell out of the tub, to quote my friend, Abe Lincoln.
“I have no control over what anyone else does,” said my sofa connection.
“But she works for you.”
“And your point is?”.
“She works for you? You pay her to assist…help, cross the finish line of errands well done?”
See, I never should have picked up the rope, as they say in 12 Step. If Miss, where is my sofa, kept silent, maybe she could still be wooed from the warehouse, like Marilyn Monroe when she wouldn’t come out of her dressing room.
“Come on now Soph, stick out those big cushions of yours and give us your best big girl smile.”
I may be going round the bend, no surprise there, just thought I’d be doing it lying on a sofa.