(no subject)

[chochiyo_sama]

Sunday

 

On Sunday I worked like a maniac all day long—mainly because I didn’t work on the house at all on Saturday.  I cleaned the kitchen within an inch of its life.  I cleared off all the counters and scrubbed them, dismantled and scrubbed every bit of the toaster oven and microwave, and power-scrubbed the kitchen stove till it shined.  I even took undiluted vinegar and scrubbed all the baked on greasy spots that have been there for years.  It was hard work. 

 

I did a ton of dishes—and I cleaned out the refrigerator and sacked up everything that had gone bad in garbage bags. 

 

I should have taken before and after pictures.

 

I didn’t get the floor swept and scrubbed because I was doing laundry and I didn’t want to track nasty crap up from the basement—in fact I still haven’t because I still have my red/pink load in the dryer down there.  I should strip off my sheets and wash them when I get home tonight.  I hate sleeping in cat hair.

 

I also did a really thorough job of cleaning the living room.  I did a sort of half-assed job on the dining room, but at least everything was stacked up neatly and the floor was vacuumed.  I also changed the bag on the vacuum cleaner. 

 

The good times never end at my house.

 

I don’t remember what I did besides clean on Sunday.  I know I never left the house.

 

Monday

 

On Monday I went to school, of course.  I hadn’t done much in the way of correcting all last week, so I tried to catch up yesterday—I got a lot done, but not all of it.  Hopefully today, I will do the rest. 

 

Nothing too exciting happened at school.  I’ve been working hard, trying to get the viewing guide for “Ever After” completed, since they will begin watching it tomorrow. 

 

My new couch was supposed to be delivered on Monday—Jim went to my house to accept delivery for me.  All day I thought about it.  I had my therapy appointment at 4 instead of 3, so I wasn’t able to go right home. 

 

Therapy was stressful.  It was more of the “you can’t be a universal therapist for everyone” and “you are not responsible for making everyone in the world happy.”  Intellectually I know that is true.  However, the minute I see someone who is struggling—I feel responsible to do whatever it takes to make it better.

 

Next time I go, I have to remember to ask if we can continue on the analysis of my dream about Jesus. 

 

When I left, I thought about going to Perkins for supper, as I usually do after therapy because it is too exhausting for me to go home and cook afterwards.  However, I was too excited to get home and see my new sofa.  The sky was turning very black—a thunderstorm was brewing.  It looked so ominous and cool that I had to take a few pictures of the sky on my way home.

 

 

This picture was taken from the parking lot of the building where I have therapy.

 

 

So was this one.

 

 

This one I took at the stop lights where old R.O.C. was, looking north.

 

 

Same place, slightly different view.

 

 

This one shows the edge of the storm front—and I took it at the stoplights in Byron, looking south.

 

When I got home, I was so excited to see my new couch!!

 

However, I did notice that Jim had tidied up my yard and my porch when I walked in.  I turned the corner to look in the living room….so excited….

 

And…..

 

And…..

 

And…..

 

Said, “What the HELL is that?????”

 

It was the wrong couch. 

 

It was this couch.

 

 

 

I had a horrible sinking feeling because the one thing that the guy who sold it to me stated over and over again was that special order furniture cannot be returned.  And I figured he had made an error writing down the fabric number.  I was horrified.

 

It was the right couch—just the wrong fabric. 

 

So, I immediately called the Furniture Superstore and asked for Chris.  (He was the guy who waited on me.)   I told him the couch had been delivered, but that it was the WRONG couch.  He spent the next half hour telling me it WAS the right couch.  I said, “Nooooo, I ordered a couch with a chenille like texture.  It was brown stripes.” 

 

He said, “I personally checked the order before they delivered it and it was the right couch.”

 

He went to get the fabric sample and described it to me—and I said, “Yes, yes, yes.  That is what I ordered.  That is not what I am sitting on right now.  This one is teal and mauve and cream and tan--and it has a pattern, but the pattern is definitely NOT stripes.”

 

His brilliant response, “I KNOW that is the couch you ordered.”

 

Finally, I said, “Okay.  I’m going to bring one of the pillows in right now and show it to you.”

 

He said, “You don’t think you have the right pillows either?”

 

I said, “No.  These pillows match the sofa.”

 

He said, “You’re saying the pillows match the sofa?”

 

I said, “Yes.”

 

He said, “That’s not right.  You should have Paisley Truffle pillows.”

 

I said, “Yes.”

 

He said, “Do you mind if I put you on hold for a few minutes while I go check in the warehouse?”

 

I said, “No.”

 

He was gone several minutes.  Then he came back on and said sheepishly, “You have the wrong sofa.”

I wanted to say, “No shit, dumbass.”  But I said, “Yes, I know.”

 

He said, “Can I call you back in a few minutes?  I need to speak to the manager.”

 

I told him it was no problem, then called up my mom and told her the whole sordid tale. 

 

Later, he called back and said they would deliver it the next day—but I couldn’t take off work because so many people were not at school as it was—and I thought it was too short of notice to ask Jim.  So, then we agreed on Wednesday.  I thought that I’d ask for the day off.  But when I called Jim to tell him, he said he would come and accept delivery again. 

 

Jim told me they had a hellacious time getting the couch into the house.  And he said the delivery guys were a couple of idiots.  They didn’t seem to know up from down and were being real pissy with each other.

 

And then I had to make supper—when I was already exhausted.  I was much too tired and stressed after that ordeal to do my 30 minutes of cleaning.  I did do the dishes, however.

 

 

Comments

[holczer13.livejournal.com]

That is one fucking ugly couch that they DID deliver to your house...thank god they will fix it. At least they fixed it without you having to drive over there and show them the butt-ugly pillow!

[chochiyo-sama.livejournal.com]

I know.

I wanted to cry when I saw the hideous thing.

[holczer13.livejournal.com]

new couch is much much nicer, and now you just have to keep the cat hair off of it...hahaha