Robin Likes to Talk

The Delivery

I come home from work the other day to find all of my dining room chairs in the garage lined in a row, between the cars like some soul train ready for take off. “OMG What the heck is he doing”? I say this out loud like I should expect some formal answer from thin air. There are four large boxes on the other side of the garage. When I get into the house my husband is taking his afternoon nap.

Image by Robin Moreau

I look in the dining room to find 4 new chairs in addition to the 4 boxes in the garage. 8 chairs. We had contemplated getting a new dining set. He wanted new chairs, I wanted a new table and chairs. I hate this table. Solid wood and the top made of uneven slate tiles. So uneven, there is no room for clumbsiness when sitting a drink down. And slate, let me remind you, is so heavy I can barely maneuver it on my own. This table has been with us for years. It has traveled over 800 miles with our move to the Pacific Northwest and I hate it.

The next day that’s all I heard, how great of a deal he got on these chairs. Okay, okay, they actually were really nice, and I admit to everyone else BUT my husband, they matched the table quite well. He did a really good job picking them out.

Today, I come home from work early due to a power outage. My husband and I are out back chatting about each others’ day and I hear the UPS driver pull up. 3 more boxes. Wait, what? I chat it up with the driver about drinking wine (I was having a glass) and He was wishing he could have a glass and ask him about this random delivery he was bringing us today, like the delivery of 8 he brought yesterday. My son brings the 3 boxes into the house and I ask my husband, what is this? “Chairs for the other dining table in the kitchen”. Really? “Where is the fourth chair”, I ask him. He acts surprised, “What do you mean fourth chair”? “There were only 3 delivered”. What?

By this time my daughter came home and asked about the boxes. I said to her that her dad was annoyed because we only received 3 boxes. She says, “3? There’s 4 sitting there”. He perks up and says, “There’s 4”? Confused, I said “no, there’s 3”. My daughter says, “pretty sure there’s 4”. She then leans around the corner and peers into the dining room. “Oh, I guess there is only 3”.

Poor baby girl can’t count, just like her father.

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