by Marry Wakefield Buxton –
The overnight in a Naples, Fla., motel gave us a chance to recover from the drive south. We were off the next morning to claim our dream condo, yet unseen. Hope springs eternal.
Three words defined our first glimpse of the new digs. Gorgeous but empty. I went through the spacious rooms exclaiming satisfaction, but my husband did not share my enthusiasm. “Where’s the furniture?” he asked.
He had a point. The condo was stark empty. Suddenly tired, I wanted to sit down. No chairs. Then I was thirsty. No glasses. That sort of thing gets old. It became painfully clear we would need absolutely everything and we would need it soon.
Off to Walmart to purchase a blow-up mattress, two metal fold-up chairs and a take-home dinner equipped with plastic utensils. No need to shop for groceries, for one can’t cook without pots and pans. We had our feast that evening on fold-up chairs balancing plastic containers on our knees and doing our best to eat fried chicken with a spork. Whoever invented the spork had a quite lively imagination.
Fortunately, I had thought ahead and packed sheets, pillows and towels from home. As we settled in for the night in our empty condo, it felt like we were newlyweds setting up our first apartment. We laughed at the idea of sleeping on a blow-up mattress until it came to actually going to bed. I noticed it is difficult for seniors to get up from a mattress on the floor. It was a very long night.
“The first thing we need to do today is buy a decent bed!” I announced in the morning after a cacophony of groans. I called a furniture company that promised same day delivery. Things immediately looked brighter. At least we would have a decent place to sleep that night.
“We need a sofa,” I said and we headed out to a charity resale store that had an array of lovely furniture donated from estates at low prices. “We have to stick to a much disciplined plan, dear,” I instructed Chip. He was already going up and down aisles selecting orange lamps, red pillows and green chairs. “The rule is to follow a strict plan and only choose furniture in earth colors: rattan, bamboo, metal, glass or light wood. Otherwise,” I further explained, “our new condo will look like a used furniture store.”
The plan worked. We soon had purchased a glass-topped white bamboo dining room table with six chairs, white bamboo round table with three matching chairs for the kitchen, a beige sectional sofa for the living room, two brass- and glass-topped end tables, matching room lamps, an ash blond wood buffet to take our new TV, a granite topped hallway table and mirror for the hall, rattan end tables for the bedrooms, a white bamboo desk for the computer, two brass floor lamps and a scattering of occasional lamps. A wrought iron table and matching chairs were perfect for the lanai and that allowed us to enjoy the sunsets over the Gulf each evening with a glass of wine.
But something was missing. We needed some greenery — so back to the hospice resale shops to buy fake potted plants, which were deposited in all empty corners. It gave the condo the perfect finishing touch.
“The only new items I purchased are a futon sleep sofa for the guest bedroom, TV, laptop computer and printer!” I announced proudly. “Think of all the money we’ve saved!”
Chip shot me a rather sour look. “Think of how much money we would have saved if we had stayed home in Urbanna!” He looked out at the shimmering lake before him, the vast greenery beyond and finally the mangrove forest that separated us from the gulf.
Hah! I said, “Aren’t you glad I bought this wonderful condo?” Yes, yes, he had to admit he was glad. Now all our troubles would vanish and we could finally rest our tired bodies!
We had survived my rash purchase and all was well! An ingredient to happiness is doing something risky in life and managing to succeed, in spite of yourself. Chip didn’t even turn around as he said the next four words. “I see an alligator.”
I jumped up to gaze down where he was pointing. Sure enough, there was a 10 footer sprawled on the shore right in front of our condo!
I screamed, a more serious scream than when I see a mouse or a rat. There’s a big difference in a lady’s scream between a rodent and reptile. Finally I calmed down. “But, how will we walk along the lake?” I asked.
“A very good question, my dear.” (Notes from Florida continued next week.)
©2020
