It is Wednesday.
Our new couch arrived last night with our other furniture, already days late, and with center springs sprung. It’s like sitting in a cushioned pit that makes dramatic popping noises, apparently to draw more attention still to its basic failings. A whole lot of moderately expensive worthless, in other words.
So this morning, first thing, I call the local furniture store that sold it to us, and the goofus who picks up promises to refer my issue to “the proper authorities” (his actual words) once they arrive today. The store is actually looking for a new manager right now. Among the many things in life that surprise me, this last item is not among them.
In the plus column: I was not on the British ocean liner Lusitania, sunk by a German submarine off the coast of Ireland on this day in 1915. Not dying at sea is among the sundry ways of not dying that I am most fond of.
<Post likes lost from original blogsite>
