As I write this, I’m half-way through my course of Paxlovid, which, as far as I know, is equally effective at helping my immune system battle the Covid-19 virus, as it is at making my mouth taste like asphalt.
It is now Thursday morning, Feb 29. I’ve been sleeping in my La-Z-Boy since last Saturday night. But in the wee dark hours this morning, the recliner decided it’d had just about enough of my bullshit, and dumped me like Graham Norton’s Big Red Chair. And I didn’t even get to tell a story.
I’m sure I could rebuild this thing stronger. As is to be expected, La-Z-Boy has reduced the size, quality, and strength of every last part of their furniture as far as they think they can get away with. I was never under any impression that La-Z-Boy was in the business of quality furniture. They’re in the business of affordable furniture. It’s nice enough, comfortable, functionally appropriate. But it’s not the sort of furniture that is built so sturdy that it’d routinely happen that the upholstery wears out, but the “bones” are still solid, so you’d debate whether you should have it professionally re-upholstered. No. When it gets to the point that you’ve decided it’s a little too embarrassing to have in your living room, you put it in the basement, or the garage, or on the curb. Then you buy a new one.
No, I won’t re-make this block out of oak (along with its twin on the other side) so it lasts longer than I will. Rather, I will goop this up with Gorilla brand wood glue, clamp it in 2 or 3 places, let that harden, chisel off any squeezed-out blobs which may make noises against the springs, and flip this overstuffed turtle back onto its feet. It needs to last another 5-10 years, no more.
Fortunately, I was going to be up in just over an hour anyway.
