The living room furniture gap of July 2026 has officially closed. When Jay and I dismantled our twenty-year-old Sears hide-a-bed and wheeled its heavy frame across the parkade floor before our Alaska cruise, we knew we were signing up for a short period of indoor minimalism. We did not, however, anticipate the sheer visual oddity of our interim seating upon returning home.
For almost a week after disembarking, we watched television from a pair of red metal patio chairs brought inside from the balcony. We placed them on a couple of bath towels to protect the carpet, which made our living room look like a poolside party that had strayed indoors. The setup worked, but it was a constant reminder that our new charcoal grey leather sofa, a surprise purchase during a Surrey errand run three weeks ago, was still somewhere out on its supply-chain route.
At roughly 5:45 PM last evening, the delivery truck finally arrived. We moved the patio chairs back outside, folded up the towels, and slid the new sofa into place, matching my old napkin measurements down to the millimeter. Civilized comfort has returned to the apartment, and a battery-powered robot cat sitting on the side chair remained entirely unimpressed by the upgrade.
