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Sunday, January 9, 2011

The Fight Of The Decade

Tonight, there was a fight in my house.  A big one.  Something that has been brewing for about a decade now finally came to blows.  It didn't end well for either party.

Since the day I moved from home to be with my husband, he has loathed a furniture set that my parents gave us to use.  It is gorgeous.  All real wood, and almost an antique.  At this point, though, it needs some restoration.  We haven't done it.  Not our thing.  Yet, I can't get rid of it.  I want to give it back to my parents so that they can have it restored.  The pieces i have are the small love seat, and the side chair to match.  My mom still has the coffee table and end tables that came with it.  She actually still uses them.  Unfortunately, the rocking chair that matched passed away to the rest place for old furniture, aka the dump, last year.

As I said, My Husband hates them.  He would love to see our pieces go to that old furniture resting place as well.  I won't let him, though.  Instead, we carry them from home to home, and he loathes them a little more each time.

We just finished moving to a new house tonight with four bedrooms for the new baby.  My husband has enjoyed some of the process.  He has been able to use our old truck.  He loves his old truck.  We recently got a new one, but the old one is sitting here, waiting until my brother comes to get it.  My husband didn't want to give up that truck, but he had no choice, as it needed more work that we can afford to get done.  Thankfully, my brother is a mechanic, and he can do it himself.  My Husband at least gets to pass the beloved truck on to someone he knows will take care of it, and using that truck, even just to take things from one house to another, has really been the highlight of this whole move for him.

In the process of this move, My husband  had to move that sofa and chair yet again.  There is sits in the garage, giving him the evil eye, every time he walks in there.

Our trash dump is closed for the weekend.  So, My Husband decided to load the old truck up that he has been using for the move one last time, park it in the garage, and take everything over when the trash area opens tomorrow.

Unfortunately, the garage is full of crap, and that is a big truck.  So, I had to guide him in as backed in so that he could fit the truck.

I was doing my job, before anyone asks.  He was backing up.  I had him slow down.  I was yelling out distance increments to let him know how much room he had, in addition to motioning with my hands.
Two feet.
One foot.
Slow!
Six inches.
Stop!!

He didn't stop fast enough.
There was a crunch.
Directly behind him, right where he needed to stop, sat my beloved furniture.

He backed into it too fast, and cracked the chair back in half.

My heart dropped.

I hung my head and told him he broke it, too tired to be pissed. That, and in my heart I know he didn't do it on purpose.

He got out, all smiling, and laughed.  "I didn't mean to do it, you know."  He also let me know that he wasn't terribly upset.  The universe, though, was.  He had struck the first blow, but the furniture wasn't going down without a fight.

The truck wouldn't fit.  He adjusted the furniture, and tried again.  He still needed just a few inches to get the garage door to close.

He pulled up a couple of feet, and grabbed the chair, turned to carry it to the side of the garage, and it happened.  Another crunch.
My eyes must have been huge.  I just stood there staring.  He looked at me.
"What?"
"Nothing."
"What?"
"You broke your tail light."
"I did not."

I didn't respond, but tapped the spider web pattern in the tail light.

He looked, his face went red.  He made a fist, and  I swear he nearly hit the chair, until he realized it probably wouldn't do him any good to punch a piece of solid oak.

Tit for tat.  The chair fought back.

So, the first blows have been rendered.  I'm not sure yet of the outcome.  I do know that these won't be the last blows thrown by either party, though.

I also know that when I tell this story to my brother, who still wants the truck, it will be much less dramatic, and play down any damage that might prevent him from taking it.  After all, we need it moved as soon as possible least it be the victim of this senseless feud again.

2 comments:

MySweetCreations said...

So what is going to happen to your chair? Are you going to have it repaired? You write very well and captured me into your story immediately. :)

Morada said...

I'm really not sure what I am going to do with the furniture. It is just sitting in the garage, where my much smaller car goes now. It can still be fixed up and be a really neat little set. I think I would give it away to someone who would take care of it and fix it up if I could find someone.

Thanks for the compliment!