The Chair: Part 2

I recently wrote about my abject feminist outrage when a chair I had purchased was delivered, only for the delivery man to comment that as he couldn’t get it up the stairs, I would need my “husband” to take the legs off for me.

I was understandably outraged, but the chair remained lying on its side under the loft stairs for a number of weeks until I found a willing helper whom I could bribe to take the legs off for me and then get them back on successfully.  It wasn’t that I couldn’t use a screwdriver, just that other people are better at such things than me, though I refuse to believe that their genitals have any bearing on that.

Anyway, had I wished to avoid such traumas, I should have simply contacted Shiply to arrange a large item delivery, which may well have been cheaper as I would have been able to get several quotes, which is something I could really do with given that I am still, rather tragically for someone of my advancing years, unable to drive and probably going to become that elderly woman from first-wave reality show Driving School who took about thirty attempts to pass her test.

Anyway, the chair is now happily ensconced in its new abode in the loft, looking fabulous, and next time I need a large item delivered I will know better.

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