My ottoman empire....
My Ottoman Empire Is Complete....
So yesterday I went out shopping for batteries. My 'walkwoman' CD player, was telling me it could not go another step:
"No ennn -- errr---ggggyyy..."
It's digitally breathless, voiceless message was deathbed serious. It was Violeta in LaTraviata, Gilda in Rigoletto, Mimi in LaBoheme. I cannot blame a device, which lives only to sing and play music for falling into a dramatic interlude. After all, it knows not that it will be reincarnated, yet again, when the "Goddess of batteries" resuscitates it.
Besides needing the life resuscitating batteries, I also wanted to check on my black and white film (see 'Walk Noir'). It had been a whole week since I turned it in for processing. Usually I have my film developed on a same-day-basis. But, because it was b&w, they could not develop it on site. So with the fresh batteries, two new throw rugs and a DVD in hand, I hopefully inquired about my film: Nope, not there. I was told it could be as long as 2 weeks for B&W film. Great, another whole week of fretting, anticipating and angsting about the potential disasters that could befall my two rolls of film; lost and alone in some unknown photo lab thousands of miles from home. My cheery new rugs and the dvd could not pacify my disappointment, hard as they tried. I paid for my loot and left the store. Even the happy-to-see-what-I-might-have-gotten-her, Sarah dog, waiting in the car could not lift me out of my grey fog of pining (or is it whining?!?) for my pictures. I knew something drastic had to be done!
I drove straight to a furniture store. Not the one that I buy my hot tub supplies from. This one is closer to my home. Last year, in a moment of near crisis (such as this) it saved me, by having an attractive sage green, softly upholstered chair that was perfect for my bedroom. And this day's impromptu (but justified) trip was related to this chair. I have been struggling with trying to find a perfect ottoman to be used with my cozy, sage chair. I tried using a beige leather ottoman that belonged to another chair. It is neo-modern in design with an open, round wooden pedestal supporting the light beige leather pillow on top. The chair it really belonged to missed it terribly. And it really did not fit into the corner where my sage chair resides.
The solid, rectangular black ottoman I bought a few weeks ago to go with the couch in the room I created at the back of my garage slept in my bedroom the first week after I brought it home. It was way too big and way too black, but it was a comfortable entity to prop my feet on while slowly but surely working toward the finish of my crocheted afghan. I got tired of tripping over it and tired of looking at it and took it where it belonged. This left an empty space which I welcomed, but missed the prop when in the chair.
This year has been the most ottoman-intensive of my life. And as I write this, it is also the end of my ottoman empire explorations, too. After all I have no more chairs or couches or corners lacking the privilege of an ottoman.
I entered the furniture store with the notion of maybe having to replace my soft-sage chair with an ugly little recliner type. But, as fate has steered me this year, a small square-ish, suede-like, light green ottoman pressed its wet nose up against the glass and stole my heart. That puppy even has wheels for easy shifting and, AND the top comes off; flipping over to a hard plastic drink holder and within its belly, I can load it with yarn, etc. It was love at first sight. Well, as much in love with an ottoman as one depressed, b&w film waiting, afghan crocheting woman could be.
So yesterday I went out shopping for batteries. My 'walkwoman' CD player, was telling me it could not go another step:
"No ennn -- errr---ggggyyy..."
It's digitally breathless, voiceless message was deathbed serious. It was Violeta in LaTraviata, Gilda in Rigoletto, Mimi in LaBoheme. I cannot blame a device, which lives only to sing and play music for falling into a dramatic interlude. After all, it knows not that it will be reincarnated, yet again, when the "Goddess of batteries" resuscitates it.
Besides needing the life resuscitating batteries, I also wanted to check on my black and white film (see 'Walk Noir'). It had been a whole week since I turned it in for processing. Usually I have my film developed on a same-day-basis. But, because it was b&w, they could not develop it on site. So with the fresh batteries, two new throw rugs and a DVD in hand, I hopefully inquired about my film: Nope, not there. I was told it could be as long as 2 weeks for B&W film. Great, another whole week of fretting, anticipating and angsting about the potential disasters that could befall my two rolls of film; lost and alone in some unknown photo lab thousands of miles from home. My cheery new rugs and the dvd could not pacify my disappointment, hard as they tried. I paid for my loot and left the store. Even the happy-to-see-what-I-might-have-gotten-her, Sarah dog, waiting in the car could not lift me out of my grey fog of pining (or is it whining?!?) for my pictures. I knew something drastic had to be done!
I drove straight to a furniture store. Not the one that I buy my hot tub supplies from. This one is closer to my home. Last year, in a moment of near crisis (such as this) it saved me, by having an attractive sage green, softly upholstered chair that was perfect for my bedroom. And this day's impromptu (but justified) trip was related to this chair. I have been struggling with trying to find a perfect ottoman to be used with my cozy, sage chair. I tried using a beige leather ottoman that belonged to another chair. It is neo-modern in design with an open, round wooden pedestal supporting the light beige leather pillow on top. The chair it really belonged to missed it terribly. And it really did not fit into the corner where my sage chair resides.
The solid, rectangular black ottoman I bought a few weeks ago to go with the couch in the room I created at the back of my garage slept in my bedroom the first week after I brought it home. It was way too big and way too black, but it was a comfortable entity to prop my feet on while slowly but surely working toward the finish of my crocheted afghan. I got tired of tripping over it and tired of looking at it and took it where it belonged. This left an empty space which I welcomed, but missed the prop when in the chair.
This year has been the most ottoman-intensive of my life. And as I write this, it is also the end of my ottoman empire explorations, too. After all I have no more chairs or couches or corners lacking the privilege of an ottoman.
I entered the furniture store with the notion of maybe having to replace my soft-sage chair with an ugly little recliner type. But, as fate has steered me this year, a small square-ish, suede-like, light green ottoman pressed its wet nose up against the glass and stole my heart. That puppy even has wheels for easy shifting and, AND the top comes off; flipping over to a hard plastic drink holder and within its belly, I can load it with yarn, etc. It was love at first sight. Well, as much in love with an ottoman as one depressed, b&w film waiting, afghan crocheting woman could be.
posted by Laurie at
1:58 PM
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