Ever have a day when you just need to cry to get your head straight? You need to let it all out before you can put stuff behind you and move on? I consider myself an emotionally strong woman, but sometimes crying happens, and I’m okay with it.
I’m not advocating for folks to walk around crying all the time – that’s a whole other story. What I’m talking about is being realistic and acknowledging that you can handle X amount of stress before you reach your tipping point, and then you might shed a tear or two.
For me, that tipping point came Wednesday evening when the second sofa I purchased (in one week) was to be delivered. If you want to get up-to-speed, here is what happened to my original sofa – the one that #MyDogGrace soiled in a very special way. I’m giving myself mad props for navigating that day without waterworks. Seriously.
After that ordeal, I quickly purchased a replacement sofa because I had weekend company coming just two weeks later. I bought a sleeper-sofa at Home Comfort that very day and arranged for delivery. Unfortunately, when the sleeper arrived, it had a tear in the fabric. When I felt the thickness of the fabric, I decided to cancel my order on the premise that said fabric would have lasted no more than five minutes with #MyDogGrace. Home Comfort’s customer service was fantastic, and they refunded the entire purchase price and delivery fee within 24 hours of my request. I’m sure they have quality furniture, I just happened to order the cheapest sofa they had.
At this point, the stress was building as I needed to find another sofa and have it delivered before the following weekend. Now I was working within a seven-day window. Crunch time. No problem, however, because I found a suitable love seat on the Rooms to Go website within my budget. I had been in the store and thought the fabric on this model was adequate, so I ordered and promptly received the confirmation email that my sofa would be delivered on Wednesday (two days before my friend, Miss K, was to arrive). Cutting. It. Close.
All the while, any time I wanted to watch tv or simply not be in my bed or at the kitchen table, I had been sitting in one lonely, solitary chair in my living room. During this time, it came to my attention that my home had some sort of gnat or fruit fly infestation. The pesky little things were buzzing my head, well, like gnats or fruit flies do. Not exactly the red carpet I wanted to roll out for girls weekend.
But, I felt I could figure out the gnat thing, the sofa was arriving Wednesday, and I had been to a charity auction the weekend prior and purchased a basket of goodies which included a gift card for dinner (enough to treat my friends). I was optimistic that I could make this a nice girls gathering.
Then it all went to hell.
Long story short, Rooms to Go said I would receive a 30-minute phone call when the delivery driver was on his or her way. What I actually received was a phone call telling me that the driver waited at my home for 15 minutes and left because I was not there. I explained that I never received my 30-minute phone call, and three different representatives flatly told me, repeatedly, that they offer phone calls but they are not guaranteed. These phone call requests are entered into the system, but it is at the delivery driver’s discretion whether the phone call will be placed. WHAT? So basically, by telling the customer they will receive a phone call, but it is not guaranteed (and that part they don’t disclose up front), the company is tricking people into not being home when their furniture is delivered! AmIright?
The more representatives I spoke with, the more maddening the situation became. Rather than rescheduling delivery to a date that would leave my friends propped against the wall, I cancelled the order entirely. However, I was informed that I still had to pay the delivery fee…because the driver attempted delivery and I wasn’t there. Because I never got the call!
My mind was spinning. The room was spinning. The gnats were buzzing. Oh, and I received a message that the gift card for dinner I purchased at auction did not exist, that it was a miscommunication with the vendor and my money would be refunded.
And so on Wednesday evening, I sat in my one lonely, solitary chair in my living room, and as I swatted gnats from my face, I cried.
Sometimes crying helps. Sometimes crying is involuntary. Both applied in this case. I called my friend, Miss J, who talked me off the ledge of threats to fumigate my home with toxic chemicals, to cancel girls weekend, and to resign myself to a life of floor pillows. She pointed out that nobody would care whether I had a sofa, and that Miss K who was coming for the weekend would most likely enjoy sofa shopping with me, and more so, would be happy to help me. I sniffled some form of ‘you’re probably right’ and felt a tad better about the less-than-welcoming state of my home.
And, of course, Miss J was right. It turns out a shallow dish of apple cider vinegar and dawn dish soap will take care of gnats. I rented a U-Haul, Miss K and I lumbered down the road to Rolesville Furniture, and we brought the darn sofa home ourselves. We carried it from the truck, down the sidewalk, up the stairs, and wiggled it through my door. Our old lady backs required a few glasses of wine afterward, but the adventure added another story to our repertoire for reminiscing for years to come.
Crying is allowed, because when you get to the other side of your tears, you realize it’s not about what you have in life, it’s who you have. It’s about your friends loving you even when you sign them up for physical labor right in the middle of a girls weekend. It’s about making memories and about being a community of support for each other.
So go on and have a good cry every now and then, and afterward, count your blessings. Even through a tear or two, you can still see what matters most.