If there’s one thing you can count on in life, it’s process. Even in our restless world of instant gratification, there are the inevitable terms and conditions, download times and numerous tiny buttons that lead to tiny progress bars that eventually lead to tiny conclusions in the great scheme of other processes.
The reality of trying to buy a couch has made the step-by-step stress of our modern life more apparent than ever before. A high-class problem no doubt, but valid all the same. There’s an overwhelming array of colors, configurations and questionable availability. In stock. Out of stock. Strange notes and warnings with every click. You can’t see anything in store, but please read all the robotic reviews. Chat with an operator who will simply copy and paste the answers you’ve already read on the website as replies. Allow 30 days for fabric harvesting. Ask about our white glove furniture delivery—only available in Oklahoma and Virginia. Please be prepared to be disappointed (all sales final).
So, for now, I sit at the 70’s desk chair I picked up for free next to the dumpster at Salvation Army almost 20 years ago. I didn’t choose the fabric, the style or have it delivered. I tossed it in the trunk of my ‘68 Impala and its been with me since. It was a process for sure, but a fairly simple one.