Crime Writer Margot Kinberg

I’ve always liked my sofa and recliner. They’re made of soft, comfortable fabric that just invites you to take a nap. And the cushions have enough give to be comfortable, but they aren’t saggy, either. You know – just the perfect balance. Chantal never liked them. She always said they were too big and too dark for the living room. She wanted country furniture with some kind of gingham pattern, and those pillows with buttons on them that rub right into your back. Who can rest on a sofa like that? She wanted ducks on the wallpaper in the bathroom, too, and a shelf full of ceramic angels. I held the line on the sofa and recliner, though. When we were first getting things for the house – we have a decent little home about half a mile from the lake – she insisted on going to one of those country stores to try to find a coffee table. I went with her and fortunately talked her out of the oh-so-cute rustic wooden table she wanted. Thank God the one I finally got her to agree to is a simple oval thing. It’s wooden, but at least it’s not cutesy. She did get a big, ugly, heavy candlestick (I mean, why? We don’t have candles!). But that’s gone now. I got rid of it.

But back to my sofa and recliner. I hate to give them up, because like I said, I love them. But now I need a new living room set. I’m going to have to get a new rug, too. Chantal didn’t much care for that rug. She said it didn’t fit the décor. I like it, though. It’s a brown and tan pattern that goes with the sofa and loveseat. What’s wrong with that? But it’s gone now, and I’ll have to get a new one. Chantal didn’t think I had good taste in furniture and things like that, but I know what I like.
‘You just pick any old thing,’ she would say. ‘You don’t think about style or theme.’
‘It’s not Better Homes & Gardens,’ I told her. ‘Why can’t we just get what we want?’
‘Well, I like rustic country, and you like….I don’t know, mancave.’
Maybe she had a point, but I don’t care. I like to be comfortable. Is that so much to ask?

There’s a second-hand furniture store a few blocks from where I live. They take in all kinds of chairs, tables, and whatever. I borrowed my friend’s truck yesterday, and tomorrow I’ll use it to take the sofa and loveseat there. Hopefully someone will buy them. They are nice pieces, really, no matter what Chantal said about them. I’ve already ordered a new living room set that will be here late tomorrow afternoon. It’s brown, too, and so comfortable I almost nodded off in the store. I got it from a nice place, too. I figure I deserve some quality seating. I’ll have to get the set I have out of the way, and there’s not much time before the new stuff comes, but I’ll be OK. Chantal always said I procrastinate too much.
‘You watch those stupid games all weekend, and you don’t take care of anything around here,’ she complained. ‘I tell you and tell you and tell you about the trash and the dishwasher, and I end up doing it all.’
What can I say? I don’t like being nagged. I get everything done, just in my own time. What’s so wrong with that?

The second-hand store has a strict cash-and-carry policy, so I’ll never know who bought the sofa and loveseat. That’s probably just as well. Still, I want everything cleaned up before I go. I even rented one of those home steam cleaners and used it on the sofa and loveseat. I think it got everything, but I have to wait for things to dry before I can really tell. At least, like I said, the furniture is brown, so stains don’t show the way they do on light fabric. I can’t imagine what it would have looked like if we’d gone with that gingham print sofa Chantal liked. The used furniture store isn’t fussy, and they don’t ask too many questions. I’ve seen chairs with cracked arms, a sofa pillow with a stain, and a table with a deep nick on one of the legs. But they don’t charge much, either. I mean, have you seen furniture prices lately? It’s a godsend for people on a tight budget. Still, I don’t want anything obvious on my furniture. I’m not stupid.

I hadn’t planned to buy new furniture. Like I told Chantal, I liked what we had. But she complained that we’d had that same furniture for too long. She wanted something new and different.
‘Why? These are still in good shape,’ I pointed out.
‘I’m so tired of them,’ she argued. ‘They never were my style, and now they’re getting older.’
‘And where are we supposed to get the money for new furniture?’
‘Same place you got the money for that big-screen TV.’
That was a low blow. She knew football season was about to start. Of course I needed a good TV. ‘It’s not the same thing,’ I insisted.
To her it was, though. She stamped out of the room and wouldn’t talk to me the rest of the night. Bliss.

But the next day she started up again. I sat on my sofa and listened to the long list of sins I’ve apparently committed. Then it hit me. I’m not giving up my furniture or my peace. Not for gingham and buttons. So, I solved my problem. OK, I had to give up my rug and clean the sofa and loveseat. But hey, I found great new furniture that I’ll like a lot. And somebody else is going to get a set of well-made, comfortable furniture at a cut-rate price. And I will never have to worry about wallpaper with ducks on it.