It's My Fate To Hate To Wait

Right now I'm waiting for a furniture company to deliver a new sofa, loveseat and recliner. We bought them two weeks ago but it has taken us a couple of weeks to get the living room ready for the new furniture. We work slow.

This morning Big Brothers and Big Sisters picked up my old loveseat and my entertainment center, both of them about old enough to vote.

I hate waiting for anything, and especially for big ticket items. Right now I am sitting in my computer chair because there is nowhere else to sit except for the floor, and my wife says, "Don't sit on the floor because the carpet has just been cleaned." What? My sitter-downer is dirty?

Even the kitchen table and chairs are covered with houseplants, and collectibles that go into the living room, in anticipation of the new furniture.

Besides my usual paranoia about allowing strangers in the house I have an inborn sense of pessimism, a gloom-and-doom mentality that surfaces in these situations. We got a call about 45 minutes ago from the furniture guys saying, "It'll be another hour or two," and that was after they told us this morning we were slated to be delivered "right after lunch." Since it's nearly 3:00 p.m. that's one helluva long lunch! My pessimism is born of the notion of Murphy's Law: If something can go wrong, it will. If the furniture truck can break down it will. If the driver can't find the address, if for some reason the sofa, loveseat and recliner get burned up when the truck explodes into flames, it will happen to me. It's all part of my paranoia about everyday living. I just expect the worst to happen and when it does I shrug my shoulders and say, "Eh. Toldja so."

When things go right I say, "Well, it's because I was superstitious about something going wrong. It worked in reverse." Man, anyone can come up with screwy rationales like those! I'm great at them.

While I wait I thought we'd look at a few more shoes. I had some more to put into my last edition of this blog, but didn't have enough room. So let's take a looksee, shall we?

These shoes are called "Brazilian Bitch." Don't yell at me, ladies. I don't make this stuff up, I only report it.















Silver Strappy. When they're strappy I feel sappy but really happy.













"Tongue-tied," 6" heels. Yow. That leaves me tongue-tied.















Here's a gal who claims her mom says she goes out with too many heels.



















Now that the shoe-show is over, an update on the furniture delivery. It was made about 4:00 p.m. The stuff looks great! We now have a retro-looking red sofa and loveseat and a coffee-colored recliner for me. I think Sally thought it would be good because at some point I usually spill my coffee. Gotta be good with this, though...it will have to last us for a long, long time.

Ciao for now, El Postino