The Mirage
I’ve heard that lost and dehydrated people in the desert see puddles of water and walk towards them with great joy knowing that once they reach the water everything will be fine. However each time they reach the water there is nothing. Their hopes are dashed and they must keep moving in search of the next promise of water.
That’s me. I am dehydrated. I am worn out. I do not believe in water. Literally all we needed today was the couch she purchased to be delivered and then move the food from her fridge over to the apartment. S has a full schedule and I don’t expect him before 9. T has IN PERSON religion at church and I was planning to enjoy 75 minutes alone in my house.
The day started great. We got the call that the couch was being delivered at 8:45 am. Our new roommate went to meet the mover and T & I went into the office/school. Wednesday is the dreaded distance learning half day so we were home by 1:00 ready to load boxes and boogie.
Jokes on me.
The couch didn’t fit.
So shocking because we have been mad since she bought it that she bought a love seat size. Although she plans to sleep on the couch instead of a bed she bought one that she couldn’t stretch out on. Her plan?
I’ll just bend my legs.
WHY DIDN’T IT FIT?
It was 92 inches and it wouldn’t fit in the elevator
92 inches. Ninety two. Ok. So definitely not a love seat. Definitely the opposite of a short sofa. You actually bought an extra large sofa that is incapable of making it into an apartment elevator or stairwell. So what did you do?
I just came home to watch TV. I couldn’t call you because the phone was out.
So we need to find a new one, I say.
Good luck finding a caramel colored leather one.
Don’t be rude. I am offering to help. So I dragged my unwilling 8 year old into 5 different furniture stores. Shakopee, Eden Prairie, St Louis Park. All over. Each time battling her getting out of the car. T didn’t want to walk near me. She never pays attention in parking lots. Each time I look at her she is scowling and shooting daggers out of her eyes. She is in the store behind me not keeping up touching every freaking thing. STOPITSTOPITSTOPIT. She wants to be responsible for taking pictures of the options. But she is stopping to take pictures of all sorts of unrelated things like a tiny racoon photojournalist. And when she stopped battling me she started talking non stop and asking me questions (Do you decide to get pregnant or does it just happen to you? and "I saw an app that scans your face and then turns you into an adult and an old woman. STOP IT. No one is scanning your face. HELP ME FIND WHERE THEY KEEP SOFAS HERE.”)
Awful. I would have loved to keep her at home but I knew she would be on the IPAD the whole time and no. Help me.
We get home and go talk to roomie. We hear an excruciatingly long story about how long it took her to pick up her prescriptions. (I wish that particular complaint was a drinking game.) And then she tells me the story about the sofa not fitting again. We are outside with her and downwind from the cigarette smoke. She is on her 3rd one and T has already moved.
She tells me she found a sofa she likes at Becker but it will take 3 months. I tell her that is why we focused on clearance and other sofas that were either in stock or one week out. I showed her pictures of every single option we found. As it turns out she doesn’t like black, grey, navy or cream sofas. She doesn’t want a fabric sofa. She doesn’t want a deep sofa. Or a wide arm. Or a pillow-y back. She is only interested in a caramel colored leather sofa with a tufted back and nail heads on the arms. BUT YOU BOUGHT THAT ONE AND IT DOESN’T FIT.
Then she said “Oh, I should go to Gabberts.”
That’s when I decided to move the couch she has been living on for the last 4 months to her new place. And I will let S let her know. It will do until she figures out her next step. Living here with me is no longer an option. Jesus is not in my heart. I have no grace. I have no room for compassion. I am a one trick pony who is about to win the blue ribbon for getting her out.