I’m a Machine or No One Likes Haggis or Edie’s Gonna Kill Me or God Bless the Chair

So I’ve been cleaning. And when I cleaning I mean scary cleaning—like under chairs and table, flipping lamps to dust the bottoms, and washing every dish in the house twice. To the point that a room might take 4 to 5 hours and we’re not dirty people here at the 236.

It would be easy to assume that this is because of Edie’s homecoming from the set of ‘Spider Man 3’ but it is instead more linked to my anal retentive ways. See, one of the many joys of living in one place for 8 years (I know) is that every so often things needed to be done to keep this up code. Replacing the oven that never worked, putting heat in so we don’t need parkas in the winter, fixing the occasional ceiling collapse—these are all things that need to be done at points. This time it was the bathroom.

Over time the paint in the shared bathroom had become disgusting due to candles, sneaked cigarettes and rust from decorative pieces. And every attempt to clean the walls led to more damage from either dripping paint or corrosive cleaners so it was decided that the room needed to be repainted after drywall started to be exposed. I took all the décor out and waited a few days (five) for the management company to come and repaint the whole thing.

Afterwards I decided that I should do a good clean before putting the room back together. During the process I found a deep cleaning product that took away stains from even the previous tenants and well—I became obsessed. I canceled plans, stopped blogging or having sex to slowly work my way through the apartment. I justified it multiple ways such as “Edie’s coming home’, ‘I don’t want to workout’ and ‘I’m taking a job that’s going to ruin my life so I should clean while I can’. It was actually fun and rewarding when Mrs. Garrett wasn’t lurking in the corner with a fast food bag strapped to her face.

And then I saw it—the Air Chair. Now most people in my life have had a moment or two with this ‘unique’ piece of furniture but if you are one of the unfortunate to not make its acquaintance here goes… The best way to start its description is with its natural form of industrial rubber casing—similar to a tire raft—longer than 12 feet and covered with commercial grade carpet the color of dehydrated urine. The kicker was the shape could be made into any formation—heart shaped, squared, or even the bastard cousin of the bean bag.

It came to us via a package sent by Edie’s parents—rescued from their basement rec room--because in the beginning neither Kelly, Edie nor I could afford real furniture. So the original Angles of 236 (which makes Kelly=Farrah, Edie=Sabrina and me=Kelly) had an event where the air chair was blown up—by hand—and which lead to the nickname of ‘The Haggis’(Thanks Dominic). We spent many a night reclining on the floor in the various poses that first summer, grateful to have something beside the floor.

Eventually—as we became more financially stable and I began work at Pier One—we started to buy more ‘first place’ furniture which lead to us acquiring couches. I began a slow campaign against the air chair since we didn’t need it; it was ugly and not really as comfortable as the brochure (featuring 70’s art) would lead us to believe. My hatred grew to the point that I began to imagine ways to cause the demise and departure of the Haggis; such as falling on it with scissors, having lots of sex on it so no one would sit there, and even sneaking the chair out the window via the park in the middle of the night and claming burglars stole it. But Edie would have none of it and so I seethed but learned to accept—if not love—it.

And then last summer it started to leak. How it happened I don’t know but like a Hollywood feud it got old and I was the last one standing. I wasn’t sure what to do with the Haggis but I didn’t want to be blamed for its sorry state and so I waited for Edie to come home and deal with it.

Of course she promised to free it from the carpet casing and inspect the old patches—maybe it could be fixed—and I agreed because I knew there was no need to fight it. So I waited as she went from film to film, city to city, adventure to adventure as the Haggis continued to sit defeated in the corner. Until this past week’s cleaning spree.

As I dusted and stain removed, I kept staring at the chair with one eye. I knew that I should do something with it but as the cleaning progressed I realized it was not on Edie’s—or my—priority list. And later that afternoon, mid-clean, I talked with my friend Naomi who pointed out that it had been a year since she had been in my place and it had been deflated then.

Realizing that having a dead chair for a year was ridiculous, I quietly gathered up the Haggis and folded the casing into a neat pile which I placed it in Edie’s bedroom. With a heavy heart I cleaned out its old corner and began placing various extra furniture pieces in its old home. (Which turned into a kick ass reading corner.) I was surprised at how sad the empty spot made me but it had to be done. Even with all the good memories the Haggis had with us.

Maybe I can blame it on my crazed cleaning or Mrs. Garrett or the natural order of the world but the Haggis is finally gone. All I can say really is God Bless the Chair. And please don’t kill me Edie.