…and crying won’t bring her back.

There goes my red chair. I called it my “Two-dog Chair” because there was enough room to put a little dog on each side of me while I watched tv.  Then no one’s feelings were hurt.  I’m sure a picture of that exists somewhere, but you get the idea.  (If Banjo Man reads this, he will cringe.)

My mother said she will miss the yellow chairs.  In fact, several people have said, “Not the yellow chairs!” in a rather stricken way.  They were very comfortable.  And very, uh, bright.  Marigold bright, especially in the daylight.  I’ll bet the other people on the road wished they were getting this delivery instead of the consignment store.

I don’t care about the couch.  Or the tables.  Move on down the road, you marble things.

Come back, Two-dog Chair!!!  I made a mistake!!

My husband says this is one of the happiest days of his life.  He suggested I visit the chair at the store, because he’s sure it will sit there for a long time.   But he doesn’t know that if it doesn’t sell in 90 days, I have to take it back.

Don’t count your chickens, Banjo Man.