We may not have the right house yet, but we have a sofa. One thing at a time.
(Don’t mind the picture over there, it’s been a long day, for other reasons.)
For the sake of business unnecessary to relate, my wife’s (studio) landlady was taking some furniture to Santa Fe to sell. As the movers were loading a large brown leather sofa into the truck from a storeroom adjacent to the studio, she suddenly asked my wife — who’d been next door practicing — whether she wanted to buy it. I know this because my phone rang:
“Hi Honey!”
“This is important.” [strong, clear, wake-up tone]
“Okay, I’m listening…”
“L___ is offering us a beautiful leather sofa. We have to decide, because it’s going on the truck to Santa Fe right now. It’s big. I know you like leather sofas, and I thought of you.”
“How much?”
“$800.”
“Well, I — ”
“It’s really nice.” [Off phone to the landlady: "I'm talking to him now!"]
“Well, I — um… I trust you, no matter what. But I’m not there. Geez, this is really hard.”
[Off phone to landlady and movers: "He can't decide, that's all right!"] “Okay, never mind, it’s going…”
“Well, I — ”
“It’s all right, I’ll talk to you later.”
I sat there with the phone in my hand, reviewing the dialogue in my head. “I trust you,” good, good. I did, too. But I just couldn’t jump on an $800 impulse purchase without seeing the item, even if it was something we’ve always wanted. After an unquiet five minutes, I called her back to apologize for being such a wimp.
“Look, if you were thinking of me and it’s up to me, I’m sorry, but I just — ”
“I bought it.”
“You did?”
“I made an executive decision. It’s in my studio. I’m sitting on it right now.”
“Wow.”
“You’ll like it…”
I did see it later, and I like it. It’s a classic style, kind of Western, actually, with big upholstery tacks in a decorative swirl on the ends of the arms and all the way across the bottom. A little faded but not much, no rips or tears, and very comfy. I can stretch all the way out on it and take a nap. Supposedly we got it for half of what it’s worth, but that doesn’t matter. It’s heavy, it’s leather, she hardly has the cash to spare, and she bought it.
That tells me this is serious. We have a sofa, anyway. Now all we need is a living room for it.
If it ever leaves the studio, that is.
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I need to be decisive like that
You do? Hah. I wiggled the arms — a tad loose, but no sweat — found a small stain, worried about the stitching, fretted over whether I might have been able to haggle for a lower price. If it had been up to me and the movers weren’t being paid by the hour, I’d STILL be hemming and hawing.
That girl, though… it’s a woman thing, women working together to get something done. It unleashes a primal force. You’re probably only indecisive around stupid smelly men. Hook up with another woman, and watch out!
Well, I’d like to be able to blame men, but I think that’s a copout. I agonise over decisions much of the time. At other times I’m impulsive … which isn’t the same as being decisive, and it creates just as many problems as being indecisive.
My bet is; the couch stays in the studio…all studios need a thinking couch, it’s a requisite. All the best work gets done when you are stretched out, thinking you are not thinking, but you really are.
At the rate we’re not finding a better house to rent, that couch will likely stay in the studio for a long time!
I like your description of one of my favorite states of mind, too.
A great place for naps.
Oh, yes, and I’m a napping fool.