We fought about whether an electric recliner was a “proper chair” or just a big beige lump of apology scowling into the corner of the room. We fought about it for months until somebody produced photographic evidence of themselves fast asleep at half past two on a Tuesday afternoon slumped inside one: mouth agape, gone to_sleep_with_a_laptop_still_balanced_on_the_arm_rest_as_if_they_might_just_be_come_back_IN_for_five_minutes_OF_WORK_when_normal_hours_resume level gone. That put paid to that particular argument. Not completely; there’s still one holdout muttering about how they’re “just a bit much for a front room”, but the rest of us admitted defeat there and then because you cannot argue with evidence like that.
We were holy about the idea of getting one for years. Recliners felt like something your Granny got passed down from the God Of Whinging Hipoints, not something you went out and_selected_for_yourself. Then one of us got bequeathed_a_hand_me_down version, squeaky_wheel_action, beigebeanbagtypecovering and fell in love.
Hard.
Within days they’d given up sitting on any other chairs in the house.
Friends/family would come over, plonk themselves in it and not budge until they left. That’s when the rest of us realised what we were missing.
What they don’t tell you about is the haggling over who gets to use it when. There’s one chair, multiple claimants, all wanting to sit In That Perfectly Horizontal Position at precisely the same time of evening. Someone has priority now, there’s a definite order of operations when it comes to who hops in first and it Absolutely. Is. Enforced., and it’s based loosely on who had the worst day. Meaning it can’t be proven, and is argued_about Weekly.
The buttons are another point of contention. Half of our house want it scooped right back, feet_on_tables, as if_ready to catapult oneself into outer_space.
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They treat it like an upright chair that’s disappointed them by refusing to flatten out all the way.
The others only ever recline it halfway, mocking whoever had it first by insisting everyone else is “cheating” and that the fully reclined position is “for old people”.
Feel free to direct sulphur wedges at me from now on, friendintonodoubtreadingthisline. But at least we’re upright.
It survived:
- A full glass of squash squirting_In_from_the_top into_the_crevice_between_seat_and_base
- A puppy with a penchant for jumping on things twisting it’s footrest/recline-control-leg/balcony into powerless oblivion
- And someone’s child being fed the remote like snacks at_kindergarten and pressing every bloody button they could reach
… and lived to recline another day. Respect.
We will agree to disagree on just about everything but here’s something we will agree on: get one with the motor housed in the base, NOT the arm. Every armchair variety we’ve seen rattles within weeks and then everyone just avoids sitting on that side_of_the_goddamn chair ever again. (Trust us, you’ll want to know. )
Everyone fights over it. But it’s less about the reclining nowadays. Half six becomes Connie’s Arms with whoever beating the other three of us into_it wins. Sofa every time. With us mulling glumly over to the couch like we wanted to sit there then and EVERYONE knows that is straight up bullshit.
