Reclining into reality

I'm lying here on the couch staring at a new feature in our living room. I'm really trying to like it but the truth is, I'm still struggling with what it represents. I suppose this day comes for everyone at some point, if they are lucky. I just wasn't ready to be quite so lucky quite so soon.

Who is the house guest who rudely arrived too early?

Yep, it's a recliner. Go me.

The discussion started with the undeniable realization that our 15-year-old couch was causing me intense physical pain. Then -- just like the Brady Bunch episode where Carol wants to change the wall color in their bedroom which of course necessitates a new bedspread, new carpeting, and new drapes -- we were soon shopping for new chairs and new decorative pillows and new throw blankets.

I hadn't spent much time in our old chairs since they were less back-friendly than the accompanying couch. But as we started discussing how I might use a chair in the living room, a recliner started to make a lot of sense. Something comfy and adjustable, with lumbar support and a built-in foot rest. Brooke Shields assured me I would find all sorts of stylish options at La-Z-Boy, so I was in and excited.

Well, it turns out recliners are very comfy once you get them in the right position. But bending sideways to use the levers or using your ab and back muscles to push the suckers backwards is so very painful for an already cranky back.

"We have some models with a powered remote control to do the lifting for you," offered the savvy saleswoman.

"Perfect! Let's look at those!"

Some turned out to be two. Both of them looking largely the same, which is to say enormously, inescapably, poofily reclinerish. Darn that Brooke and her broken promises.

We spent quite a long time picking upholstery that would suitably coordinate with our other furniture and my mindset. Despite all the trendy swatches and the handy computer modeling, there was no way around the fact that we were buying chairs that my grandma would love. And yes, that was plural. We bought one for each of us. Because if you are reluctant about one, why not get two?

I suppose as traditional recliners go, they aren't bad. And they really are comfortable. And the powered remote is all sorts of awesome. The boy cat is already enjoying taking rides on my lap as I raise and lower him at the touch of a button. But I just wasn't ready to be here yet. Side-by-side with Rob as we rock in our recliners, me reading the paper with my glasses off because I can't see the small print with them on. I guess I still think of myself as a young, fun, lively beanbag chair sort of gal. I figured I had at least one, hopefully two decades left before I had to fully submit to comfort over fashion.

Moments ago, Rob asked if we have to stay up until midnight on New Year's Eve. Because, you know, we might be tired. OH, you better believe we are staying up! A girl can take only so much growing up at one time.