April 3, 2011
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Because it would be less-than-gracious to say it out loud.
It’s early enough, for a Sunday. I should be in bed, but I’m not. My cat is lying on top of the cedar chest next to me, his harp-seal belly a declaration of satisfaction contained between the quotes of his curled paws. He’s looking at me, trying to decide why I’m looking at him and if it means he’s going to get something nice. In a moment, if nothing appears, he will curl one paw over his nose and go back to sleep.
I envy his contentment. I’m not crazy about the whole litter box system, though.
Sunny Jim and I have been searching for a couch for our apartment for a while, now. We both came into this arrangement with minimal furniture and, though we have a lovely vintage cabinet and a few fantastic lamps in our beautiful front room, we still have nowhere to sit. The space is long and narrow so, after looking around a bit, we agreed our best options were French Provincial or mid-century Modern. That way we could have length without the (useless) depth of so many overstuffed contemporary pieces. Of course, when you’re working with a tight budget, that’s easier said than done. Antique and vintage dealers – especially in the city – have some pretty inflated prices. Remakes of either of those styles cost even more. To find something thrift is hit or miss and, now that our city is experiencing a bedbug epidemic, we’d have to source something out of town.
Then a week ago, at about the same time, we had two bits of news. First, a friend in another city found a great French Provincial set for next to nothing at a charity shop. She couldn’t hold it for long – we had to make a decision. Then, one of Sunny Jim’s relatives said someone in the family had a lovely (and similar) piece in storage and it was possible we might be able to have it – but we wouldn’t know for at least a week.
My first inclination (and I said as much) was to go with the thrift piece. God love family and friends who want to do me favours, but I have had a lot of people hold out a lot of carrots and very few of them ever ended up on my plate. A couch in the hand and all that. But after a long discussion (and a bit of an argument over whether or not I was “accusing” people of being unreliable) I told my friend to let the thrift piece go – we would hold out for the other.
Which, of course, has fallen through.
It’s no one’s fault and I’m not upset or resentful. Really I’m not. I am mostly grateful the people who love us have our happiness on their minds and want to be helpful. Everyone had the best intentions and I appreciate that. But I am going to have to learn to trust my instincts about these things.
And I’m going to have to learn to curl one paw over my nose and go back to sleep.
g.
