(Kruiser’s Permanote Description: This column is intended to be a lighthearted, short-form way to frequently connect with our cherished VIP readers. Sometimes it will be serious. Sometimes it will be fun. Sometimes it will be a cornucopia of intellectual curiosities and fascinations. OK, maybe not so much the last one. Anyway, as this is a departure for me, I’m including this explanation at the top of each post for a while. Also, non-subscribers can see the first couple of paragraphs so I am in desperate need of filler until we get to the private stuff (subscribe here). Please remember that there is a standing invitation to ask me anything in the comments. Once in a while, I’ll answer some of them.)
Perhaps because I’ve never really grown up, I’ve always tended to buy furniture as if I were a 20-year-old college student. When my daughter’s mother and I were married we were gifted a couple of nice things by relatives. When we got divorced, however, I went back to my youthful and cheap bachelor ways. I did get a few things for my daughter but really didn’t care about what I sat or slept on.
During a massive life overhaul a few years ago I decided to spend some money on a real bed when I moved into this house. I’ve had friends who spent more on mattresses but it was still a fair amount for me to lay out for personal decor and comfort. Perhaps I felt like a transient interloper all of my years in California and didn’t want to invest in furniture lest I ended up bouncing on short notice. That never once occurred to me in the almost 25 years that I lived there, but it seems like a nice way for me to explain away my tackiness. I am positively brilliant at emotionally retrofitting my life like that.
Almost all of the furniture I have in this house was my dad’s. I kept it for sentimental reasons after I moved back to Tucson. He had good taste in furniture but he tended toward things that looked good but weren’t terribly functional when it came to comfort. I mean, Gitmo-level torture stuff. My dad had a bad back and was in AA for forty-five years. He never even liked to take aspirin. I honestly don’t know how he sat on this stuff with his back and didn’t become part of the opioid crisis in America.
I’ve spent a lot of time these past few years sitting in his favorite chair. It was probably comfortable when he first got it but now it’s so well used that my butt practically collides with the floor when I sit in it.
I finally decided that it was time to upgrade.
I bought a new recliner which isn’t super expensive but, again, a lot more than I’ve ever spent on a freakin’ chair before.
It’s only been here for about 36 hours and I think we might be going steady.
I can almost hear it calling to me when I’m sitting at my desk:
“Hey buddy, you look like you could use a quick nap.”
This chair could be the final piece to my “reasons to never leave the house” puzzle.
It’s where I will be working every night when I am finishing up my Morning Briefing. Not gonna lie: as soon as I sat in it last night to work, I fell asleep for a while. It was magical. I heard angels singing and beer being poured. Maybe being poured by singing angels.
Is this Heaven?
Anyway, that’s my review of my new recliner. I promised I’d answer a question.
Jennifer came through again:
“Ok, Kruiser, here’s the latest round of AMA questions:
Do you have any tatoos? If so,
a. how many,
b. what are they and
c. where are they? 🙂
Also – what was the story behind them? Why did you get them? More questions next time!”
OK, three questions but only one answer: I do not have any tattoos.
I’ve come close to getting one only twice in my life. My former spouse and I were going to get tatted on our honeymoon, but we were both a little under the weather (IT’S A SIGN!!!) so that didn’t happen. The second time was when my beloved University of Arizona Wildcat basketball team played in the 2001 national title game. I was going to get one if they won their second championship. Unfortunately, they were playing Duke and the refs and they lost.
I do, however, have five piercings: four on my left ear, one on my right. I don’t know why, I just like them. I got my first one in my twenties, the second in my thirties, the third in my forties, and two since I’ve moved back to Tucson. They’re never planned, I’ve gotten each one on a whim. There was never any booze involved either.
I’m sure it all just adds to my FBI profile.
You guys are the best.