Adventures of sleeping

I recently acquired a power lift chair from someone who was down-sizing. My former chair stopped working and I deemed it would be more expensive to try to repair it, than it would be worth.

For the last five months, I have slept on the couch, sitting upright. Not an ideal way to slumber, that’s for sure. While it may be suitable to nap that way for an hour or so, it does not make for a restful night. Man was not meant to sleep sitting upright.

I have a perfectly good queen-sized bed, but I have a hip that protests way too much if I try to lie on it.

My friend and co-worker, Joy, and her husband, Joe, graciously offered to haul the chair for me. They carried it into the house with an ease that impressed me. Joe reassembled my new “bed,” because they had removed the back for easier transport. He made sure it was connected and working properly before they left.

I was thrilled at the prospect of reclining and reveled at the thought of the anticipated luxury of once again fully stretching out to sleep. There was a slight hitch to this long dreamt about scenario.

The chair is in beautiful condition and looks brand new; however, when the button is pushed to lower the chair, the footrest is a bit sluggish. It reclines at a maddeningly slow pace and then, with an exaggerated “thunk,” the footrest shoots up abruptly, with a velocity that’s quite startling.

Other than having the kick of a mule, it functions perfectly. Joe spent several minutes trying to adjust it and tighten screws to see if that would rectify the situation, without success.

Despite the unexpected glitch, I’m thankful to have a suitable place to retire at the end of a long day. I have learned to adapt to my temperamental chair and keep my legs raised until the footrest is done revving up, as it kicks into overdrive to pop up. I don’t want my legs to look like someone beat them with a bamboo cane.

I’ll have to forewarn anyone standing directly in front of it, not to stand too close, so they don’t receive a sharp, debilitating rap across the shins. The force of the momentum could definitely put a body out of commission for a while.

The whole reclining process reminds me of a mechanical bull ride for elderly people. I’m tempted to install a saddle, so I’ll have something to precariously cling to until the chair ceases bucking and comes to a jerking, shuddering halt.

The first night I slept in my armchair, my daughter, Hannah, happened to be home for the weekend. She was fully aware of the idiosyncrasies involved with operating it. The next morning, she mentioned she was almost asleep when I reclined.

She heard the extremely loud klunk, as the footrest asserted its dominance, making its presence known throughout the household, and shot straight up in bed, momentarily confused at the jarringly loud, unwelcome intrusion, at that time of night. I feel bad about it, but I still laughed at her telling of it, way longer than was necessary.

I was getting up from the chair one time, and accidentally caught the corner of my blanket in the footrest. I didn’t notice it until I was going to recline again. I sat tense, with bated breath, waiting for the inevitable accelerated release, but the footrest calmly elevated itself without its usual dramatic fanfare.

Now, I have an old towel draped over the footrest, so it’s wedged tight, and I haven’t had any issues since. It works great, especially when Han is home for the weekend. She can actually sleep uninterrupted without heart palpitations.

I’m sure I sleep more soundly as well. The unaccustomed din in the middle of the night, tends to bring a person wide awake.

It amuses me and just seems apropos, that any piece of furniture of mine, would have bizarre tendencies.